Dirty Little Secret
by u17
Summary: Naomi is a new police officer undercover at a porn company...and no, Emily isn't a porn star.
1. Pleasure Productions

**Hello everyone :)**

**So this just popped into my head...**

"No. Hell no."

"You don't really have a choice, Campbell. You've just got off your probationary period. The captain will not be pleased if you don't accept the assignment." Freddie at least has the decency not laugh as he tells me this horrifying news even though I can tell he really wants to.

"Naomi? Are you even listening?"

"Yes, but I just can't believe the shit you're spouting. Of the entire police force in the country, I would estimate that I'm pretty much the worst officer for the job. So no, I will not be accepting this 'assignment'."

"The captain thinks otherwise—he specifically picked you, in fact. You're actually perfect for this kind of work." His eyes drop down, wandering over my chest. I narrow my eyes at him, daring him to go further. "I mean you're a great undercover officer and you get all passionate and worked up when there's injustice. I remember that flier you gave me about the uh, needy in, er, Asia? This is sort of similar, eh?"

"I can't even muster a response to that. If you think I'm agreeing to do this, you are very, very wr-" I hear someone clear his throat behind me. Shit.

"What was that, Officer Campbell?" The captain's nasal voice invades my ears as I put on a sugary smile.

"Nothing, sir. I was speaking with Fre-Officer McClair about the new assignment. I'm thrilled that you would trust me with such a vital investigative opportunity, Captain."

He raises his eyebrows, "Glad to hear it. You'll be starting as soon as possible—tomorrow if you can learn your back story and get the facts. And I'm not an idiot—this sort of sucking up won't get you anywhere." He gives Freddie a nod and walks back to his office.

And that's how I got the shitty assignment of infiltrating a porn company. Fuck.

...Okay, it's not that simple. The brass has gotten a tip-off that there may be either underage girls in their 'films' or there might be illegally transported foreign sex workers..or both...or maybe it's just a prostitution front. We honestly have no evidence except for an anonymous informant and pressure from the mayor to take care of the problem. Apparently it would look really bad if there was this horrible secret sex operation that went into the papers. The Captain just happens to be sleeping with the Mayor, too.

To no one's surprise, especially my own, the 'studio' is out of the way and completely filthy. How anyone can get off watching people fucking in such an unsanitary place is beyond me. Then again, people watching porn aren't exactly expecting a cinematic masterpiece. Glancing around the parking lot, I'm half paranoid that someone I know will see me. This despite the fact that I've dyed my hair blonde and am in an out of the way compound dozens of kilometers away from civilization.

"Can I help you?" says the woman working at the front desk, like a receptionist but more slutty.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm here for an interview," I mumble, swallowing thickly. Two days before I had gotten a packet about the company—Pleasure Productions—and now here I am, trying to join their 'team'. The pay is actually pretty good, but somehow I suspect that the 'company retreats' mentioned on their websites translates to video-taped orgies.

The receptionist looks me up and down, several times, undressing me with her eyes. After taking in my entirely appropriate outfit, she finally says, "Hon, I don't know if you're right for this kind of acting."

I feel a flare of annoyance and anger, "What, I'm not attractive enough? I'm not enough of a thespian to perform? Do I need to bring in my diploma from university?" I can't believe I'm getting offended that some whore is telling me I'm not cutout for porn, but somehow I am.

She licks her lips, "Not the problem, babes. But I've seen a lot of girls come through these doors and I know which types are right. You're too uptight—don't seem like the kind of girl to be agree to half the things we do here. One problem? You're wearing a business suit to an adult entertainment company interview."

Hmm. "Well I'll have you know that I'm not auditioning for a part in the, uh, _film_. I am going to be a writer."

Skankceptionist snorts derisively, "Good luck with that then. You got an appointment with the boss?"

"Yeah. I called him earlier."

"Okay, I've paged him. It's the third door on the left."

I smile and thank the girl, then head down the hallway. Moaning and screaming begin to permeate through the walls, and I can't help but glance through the window of a door.

Eeeewww. Fetish porn is, well I'll just leave it up to you. And hope that somehow evolution gets rid of it. I glance down at my shoes, praying to God that STDs can't pass through solids. I grab a sanitized wipe and rub it over the door to the office of the 'president'. Who knows what kind of fluids are on the door?

I step into the office to see what appears to be a very nice setup. There are two large armchairs, paintings on the wall, and what looks like an expensive desk. Sitting behind the desk is a man much younger than what I was expecting.

"Hello," I say with a little wave, "May I sit down?"

"Yes, of course. Welcome to the company."

"Thank you for having me, Mr. Um..."

"McPherson. But you can call me Gordon." He extends his hand and I hesitantly shake it. It's slightly sticky. I am definitely going to run out of wipes by the end of today.

**So...what do you think?**

**You could tell me in a review (nudge, nudge)**

**I don't think this story will be very long either way, but I thought it could be interesting. Lol, enough talk. I'm hoping to update Devil later.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Update! Yay...**

"So, Naomi," McPherson starts with a downright pervy grin, "What brings you to our, heh, _studio_."

"Well, sir-"

"No, no, no! I'm not to be called 'sir'-well at least outside of the bedroom-" he chuckles at his own gross joke, "-it makes me feel like an old man! Not Mr. McPherson either, that's my father. It's Gordon."

I force a smile on my face and laugh a little, "You're very funny, sir-Gordon."

"Are you being a suck-up?" He looks at me expectantly, "Because there's only one type of sucking I like!" At this he pushes his chair back from the desk and wildly gesticulates at his crotch.

"That's uh true? Men do like fellatio..." I mumble. While dealing with my bosses at the police station is annoying and tiring, at least they aren't making constant overtly sexual remarks.

This apparently humorous statement pushes McPherson over the edge. He looks around dramatically, "Listen to this one! Amazing! I have a feeling-and not just in my pants-that you will be great here. You're a wordsmith, right?"

This seems like a fairly related to this..job interview, so I nod enthusiastically. "Yes, I am. I love writing and-" I search my brains for what the dossier on 'Naomi Smith' said about my education, "-and I studied at Goldsmith's."

Gordon furrows his brow, appearing deep in thought. "So when you say 'wordsmith', you might also say 'silvertongued'?"

"Er, I suppose so?" I'm a bit surprised that he seems so focused on words I didn't expect to even find in his vocabulary. And the fact that he's disregarded any real information on my 'skills'. If I was interviewing myself for a white collar position such as this, I would at least be looking at my resume or taking notes or pulling my eyes to meet..my eyes so that I could—well that's becoming too complicated, but what I'm trying to say is that I wouldn't be eye fucking my interviewee and making lurid comments.

"Silvertongued..yes. You want to put that 'silver tongue' to good use here at Pleasure Productions? Is that your motive?"

"Yes..." I'm starting to suspect where this is going.

"Then I can think of several places where your tongue could go right here in this office!" He breaks down in raucous laughter again. Fucking pervert. How he ever got to be in charge of any company is beyond me.

I'm about ready to storm out of the office and away from this awful assignment, but I steady myself and grin. "Very clever, Gordon. Is there anything else you want ask me? Past jobs, experience, anything?" _Non-sex related, _my mind says.

"Of course, Ms. Smith. What kind of business do you think I'm running here?"

"One as good as what in your pants, which is to say, imposing?" I offer, thinking of the most sexually charged and stupid comment that I could possibly say.

He simply nods at this and pages the Skankceptionist. "Could you send Emily in? Thanks." Then, to me, "She'll be conducting the rest of this interview."

Within a minute, there's a knock on the door.

Come in!" he yells, before turning to me conspiratorially and saying in a stage whisper, "You'll like her. She has _amazing_ tits."

Like hell I will.

Still holding my fake smile in place, I turn towards the woman walking in. Fuck me, she's stunning. The first thing I notice is the bright red hair, then her big chocolate brown eyes, and finally the fit body.

Dressed in clothes much less revealing that I would have expected, she puts out her hand for me to shake. My palms are suddenly sweaty and I feel my heart begin to pound slightly. _What the fuck?_ But why wouldn't it? She's a porn star, right? Supposed to ooze sex and hotness and make me feel all...I'm getting distracted.._Need to focus, Naomi._

"My name is Emily," she tells me, her voice deliciously husky.

"I'm Naomi," I say to her, my voice cracking and making me sound like a prepubescent boy.

"Emily is our film director," Gordon informs me, "She works in the business-y side a lot too. More than me! I work with our talent mostly. I know them very well..you might even say 'biblically'!"

"Oh." This is the most innocuous response I can force myself to say. I'd much rather say, '_fuck off, toerag' _ or just kick him in the crotch. But I don't.

"So I'll leave you two to settle on the rest of it. Just give me a call if you need anything..or start some hot girl-on-girl action!" McPherson winks at me before departing the office. Thank god.

"Pervy little wanker," Emily mutters, taking his seat. "Sorry about him, he probably came off a bit strong."

I snort, "Strong? I'm surprised he didn't whip out his junk and use that to write me a contract!"

Emily grins at this, before telling me in a fake serious voice, "Have some respect. He is still the boss and owner."

"Owner of several venereal diseases, I'm sure..How can you stand it?"

"He's my little brother's best mate. I've had to deal with it for ten years. Believe me, it gets trying. But seriously, if you're here for an interview then I need to ask you some business questions."

"Of course."

She pulls out her laptop and grabs the resume sitting on the desk. "This is pretty impressive. Are you sure you want to put your skills to use here? The pay is pretty good, but it's not the kind of job that offers much advancement, prestige, or anything a legitimate job would."

"Yeah...the economy's still in the shitter and I need really a job. I figure that writing porn-"

"Adult films," she interjects before blushing slightly which is kinda adorable. "Sorry, it's a reflex. Calling the movies 'adult films' makes me feel like less of a, well, pornographer."

"Ah. Yes, if I'm going to work here then I guess I'll have to pick up on that. So do you need me to write a sample or something?"

Emily raises her eyebrows, "I probably should, but you seem intelligent and coherent and there really isn't much to it. We do a lot of parody pornos, so it doesn't even take a lot of creativity. If you want the job, it's yours."

I smile and pretend to consider it. "Yes. I'd love to work with you-I mean here at this company." Where the fuck did that come from?

"Let me show you around. Oh, and just to let you know, this office has cameras there, there, and there. So keep your guard up."

**So I wasn't gonna make Emily a porn star..that would be kinda gross!**

**More later if you guys like it..so review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we go. How did Emily get into porn?**

"So," I say to Emily as we walk down the hallway, "How did you get into this sort of work?"

This causes her to blush. "Well it's kind of an embarrassing story."

"Oh. Sorry, I don't want to pressure you or anything. It's not a big deal." That's a lie, I totally want to know...

She smiles and responds, "No, no. I should just go ahead and admit it. I trust we'll be getting to know each other a good bit in the future and it's going to come out eventually. Better to tell you now."

_Hehe, you bet we'll be spending time together_. God, just this environment is making me have sketchy thoughts. "It must be really bad then. My interest is piqued."

Emily takes a deep breathe, "Have you ever seen 'Hood Monkey 2: Back for Bananas'?"

I frown, "No...is that even a real fucking movie?"

"Unfortunately yes. It is the movie that sank my career at the ripe old age of 22."

"You were involved with 'Hood Monkey 2: Back for Bananas'? I don't even think I understand what that means. The title or your statement. In fact, I suspect the space/crazy-ass shit continuum is about to implode." I look at her with disbelief, partially convinced that she's fucking with me, somewhat disturbed that society would produce anything called or related to a 'Hood Monkey', and very confused as to why an articulate person such as Emily would ever get near such a movie.

This causes her face to get much redder, almost matching her hair. "Like I said, it sunk my career. It was pretty awful."

"But-but why?"

"Well it started out fine. I got a directing contract with a big studio."

"So you choose to make a movie about 'Hood Monkey'. Makes sense—it's clearly a reasonable, sound decision for a young filmmaker..if said filmmaker was a binge-drinking, acid-dropping stoner."

Emily gives me a dirty look at this. "Too far. If you're going to be a bitch, I've got things to do, places to go, and people to fuck..I mean, to tell people how to fuck in front of a camera—screw this, I've got shit to do and I can't be bothered to explain myself to a smartarse who doesn't know her place. So here are my final words of welcome and introduction: bathrooms are at the back, don't use the third stall because it's bugged; the break room is labeled with a plain piece of printer paper that reads 'when you're done with porn, come here for some popcorn' in childish handwriting; your office is right near the reception area; and please don't sleep with anyone working here, especially the talent."

Fuck. I went over the line, yet again. That's my issue, I just don't know how to stop. I smile weakly at her before she gives me a death glare and walks away.

"That was stupid," a voice says behind me.

I whirl around to see a stick-thin girl staring at me, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke into my face. "Well...yeah. I made a mistake."

She nods at me and extends her hand, "Clearly. Effy."

"Naomi." I feel her eyebrows eying me up and down as if she's appraising me.

"So, are you a new actress?"

"Nooo. No. No. I-I am a writer. Going to be penning the masterpieces."

"For now." She smiles widely at this. It's kind of frightening...

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just fucking with you really. Calm down." Effy offers me a fag which I gratefully accept. I've been trying to quit smoking since I joined the force, but a stressful situation like this warrants a few cigarettes in my book. We smoke in silence, me wrapped up in thoughts and Effy...well I'm not sure what was going on with her.

"She likes chocolate-covered macaroons," Effy comments, leaning against the wall. When I raise my eyebrows with confusion, she elaborates, "Emily. They're her favorite."

It suddenly clicks and I find myself smiling again, "Thanks, I'll make sure to get some."

She doesn't respond, just walks away dreamily, dragging her hand over my shoulder as she leaves

I spent the rest of the morning getting situated in the writers' office. I assume there are a few other writers because there are four desks, but there wasn't anyone in the office. That would be very troubling to me, considering that I'm a shitty writer at best. During my lunch break, I legged it over to closest bakery and picked up an assortment of cookies. My thought was to cozy up to my boss (well not Gordon, he's disgusting) so that I could find out about any illegal going ons.

When I reach her office, my nerves flare up unexpectedly. I am not the type of person to get flustered, but right now my heart is pounding. _What if she doesn't forgive me?_

But she does, accepting a cookie and starting her story again.

"I became semi-famous or at least noticed in the business when I released my student documentary on a woman with BIID. Body identity integration disorder. She felt like her right leg was not a part of herself and my film was about her quest to get rid of the leg. I lived with her for 4 months. No reputable doctor would cut her perfectly healthy leg off and she couldn't stand it. Unfortunately she attempted to self-amputate it while I was in the bathr-"

"WHAT?"

"She tried to cut her leg off while I was taking a shower one day."

"But..but that's insane!"

Emily snorts, "Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, I called to get help right away. Once they had taken her away to the hospital, the police took me in for questioning. The fucking pigs insisted that it was all my fault and that it was assault. 'Gross negligence resulting in serious bodily harm' apparently even though I called the fuckers as soon as I saw her collapsed in the pool of blood. They trumped everything up, made it seem like this was some stunt for the movie. I lost my scholarship to school while they investigated me, ie tried to frame me for some stupid charge. But luckily the justice system prevailed over their stupidity and all of the charges were dropped. The controversy brought a lot of attention to the film, especially from the biggest independent movie studio in the country. When they offered me a contract, I leaped at the chance. As someone kicked out of university, I didn't have many other options."

There's this righteous anger bubbling inside of me, fury at her flippant words about my fellow officers. Pigs? I cannot wait to take this outfit down and show her just what a real 'bad cop' is.

"Being young and stupid, I didn't read the contract well. I just gave it a quick perusal-"

"Peruse means to read thoroughly or carefully. So that's an oxymoron." I can't contain my inner bitchiness when she's bad-mouthing good people.

This outburst earns me a scowl before she chuckles. "Ha. I guess that's what I should expect from someone with a degree in English."

I force myself to smile at this, "Yeah, just comes naturally. Grammar nazi!"

"I'll try and watch my words then."

I fake-laugh again,"Heh heh...So, the contract?

Emily nods and continues, "So I signed myself into this horrible contract that paid well but made me essentially have no control over the projects I worked on. I was assigned to assist the director of 'Hood Monkey 2: Back to Bananas' and it went to shit. That's not my type of movie, right? But I sank with the ship. The studio decided to fire me with no severance through some bullshit in the contract. But luckily, Gordon McPherson Sr. decided to keep me on. What better place than his son's struggling porn company? It's technically owned by the big studio, so it was all kosher with my contract. Ta daa! That's how I ended up in porn."

"Holy shit...I can't wrap my mind around so much info at once, but I'm sorry your career got fucked."

"Mmm yeah, but better here than working some shitty blue-collar job. Maybe I could have joined up with the coppers, can't take much school or skill to do that!"

** I see red.**

**Tell me what you think! More humor, more interaction with other characters, what?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Update might be more regular!**

"Are you okay?" Emily asks, noticing the twitching vein, "You look a bit off."

"Sorry," I say, not feeling sorry at all, "It's just that my dad was a police officer. So I'm finding it a bit offensive. Police officers protect the public, keep us all safe. Porn? Not so much."

Emily turns red, and looks down, "No, I should apologize. That was out of line. I just..I've had some bad experience with the police. Sorry."

I smile weakly and offer up a solution, "Forgive me for being a bitch earlier and I'll forgive you for bad-mouthing police officers. And we can continue with our work."

She nods and says, "That's fair. So, um, we need to talk about your tasks for the day. I'll try to make this as minimally awkward as I can, but I can't guarantee anything." I notice that she seems a bit uneasy, twirling her hair in her fingers, and avoiding my gaze. Her statement is not reassuring in least, and all I can think about is how much I hate the fucking police commissioner.

The lingering sense of dread that's been swirling around my body for the better part of the day ratchets up in intensity, and I feel my face getting hot and red. "Yes. That. I wanna start working soon! It's a very exciting day for me."

Emily snorts disbelievingly, a small smile playing across her face. "Naomi, no need to bullshit to me. I know that this is probably a terrible day for you, a low in your life. Wait, that sounds bad and I'm projecting. But it's okay for you to to be unenthusiastic or whatever; it's not like this is a normal job."

I smile back at her, nodding, before responding with, "Oh, but you see I am a pervert. This is a dream job for me." Fuck. That wasn't even funny, just fucking creepy.

She narrows her eyes, trying to tell if I'm fucking with her or whether she's just hired some sort of sexual deviant, but then she laughs and allow myself to relax. It wouldn't be good for the operation for me to get fired on my first day. Emily's laugh is very cute, I decide. The grin on her face and the lightness and openness is rather enthralling to me, too.

"You're interesting, Naomi. Irreverent to a fault and inappropriate for your first day, certainly. But I suppose that will probably turn out well at this company anyway. Not exactly your normal 9 to 5."

I can't control the slight chuckle that wells up, and explain, "I kinda figured that out when Gordon propositioned me. Multiple times. Does he normally do that?"

Emily shrugs and states, "Gordon hits on anything with tits, so yeah. His standards are really quite low." She falters for a second, adding, "Not that you're on the ugly end of the spectrum, you're gorgeous.

I blush slightly, a small feeling creeping into the pit of my stomach. I mean, it's always nice to receive a compliment. I consider whether I should tell Emily that I think she is gorgeous as well, but it might be weird. I'm supposed to stay undercover, non-descript.

"Never gotten a compliment before, eh?" Emily says nudging me with her shoulder, "Don't worry, I'm not perving on you or anything. So are you ready to get started?"

I steel myself, rolling my shoulders and taking a deep breath to calm down a bit. "I'm ready."

No. Oh my god. I am completely not ready for this, not at all. There's three of us in the writer's room and I don't think I've ever felt so uncomfortable or out of my depth. I've taken down armed drug lords, had my nose broken by a murder suspect, and survived the horrors of hippie communal living. Doesn't even compare.

Emily explained to me as she took me into small room that she liked to have a group brainstorming session, between the production team and the writers. The writing team, it seems, consists of me and Cook. Cook seems like an older version of Gordon, perhaps a bit more suave and infinitely more successful with the fairer sex, but still just a big kid. Emily has told me that he handles the 'interesting' parts—I take that to mean the mechanics of the actual sex acts. That reassures me slightly..I was a bit concerned about having to describe lewd, disgusting things. Since I have such excellent writing credentials, I'll be in charge of forming the basic plots and dialogue.

That didn't sound so bad at first, until I realized that I would also be forced to attend the filming—in order to best complete my vision.

The whiteboard already has several storyboards sketched out, each more horrifying than the last.

Oh, did I mention that the meeting started with a viewing of Pleasure Production's latest masterpiece? Emily said it would help me get acclimated, give me some inspiration.

Well...she didn't say it quite like that. It was a bit more awkward, a lot cuter too.

_ "So, Naomi, I think that we should view some of our latest work, so that you can kinda get the feel of what we do here. Get a little bit of the style, y'know? This will help you get off. SHIT. I meant, get started. Not off." Her cheeks turn a fiery red while Cook hoots, and I feel a bit embarrassed for her..and for me. And slightly turned on._

_ "Hey, I don't see any problem with any of us getting off!" Cook says, turning to me and waggling his eyebrows._

_ "Cook, shut the fuck up, tosser! We don't want to scare away yet another writer. I like this one."_

_ "So do I, Ems!" Cook retorts, "And little Cook does too!" He gestures towards his crotch, grinning toothily._

_ Emily stamps her foot impatiently (and adorably) and says, her voice shaking slightly, "Cook, I've told you a million times not to talk about 'little Cook'. Believe it or not, but most women do not care what your junk wants. Nor do they like to be reminded that it has a stranglehold on your brain."_

_ Cook scoffs loudly, "Loads of women wanna see my cock, Em. Loads. And they respect it too!"_

_ "Prostitutes don't count."_

_ Even though they sound angry, there's obviously a lot of love between them. At least it seems their verbal sparring is good-natured._

_ "Whatever, you wouldn't know anything about the wonders of the male anatomy!"_

_ Hmm, what does that mean?_

_ "You make it very easy for me to prefer the fairer sex," Emily answers, folding her arms. "I would rather have sex with any woman than get near your shriveled package."_

_ My ears perk up at this. So she likes women...interesting._

_ Cook pipes up again,"So what you're telling me, Em, is that you'd rather shag-" he glances over at me, "_Naomi say_, rather than let me give you the sexual experience of your life, when I've been like a brother to you?"_

_ "Yes!" Emily shouts. "You see the light!"_

_ I can't control the coughing fit that comes over me at the thought of this, and the two of them finally seem to notice that I'm still in the room._

_ "Sorry," Emily says, "We were just joking." She looks at Cook pointedly, until he shrugs and says a half-assed 'Sorry'._

_ An awkward silence permeates the air, and I feel like an outsider. It's made even worse when Emily begins the DVD._

_ Each moan makes me shift uncomfortably, my ears turning red as I try and keep a straight face. I don't know what to do. Would it be better for me to watch studiously, or take notes? Should I be clear in my discomfort? Should I pretend to like it, act like this is a good product?_

_ When it ends, I can't help letting out a sigh of relief, definitely noticed by Emily._

"So," Emily says, pointing between Cook and me. "We are developing a sequel to "_Teens Gone Wild in the Wilderness" _and I think that we should go for a more horror-type feel."

"Horror?" I ask. Clearly I do not have very good knowledge of pornography as I assumed it would all be similar in style.

"Yeah," Emily says, "Give it a good feel-"

"Emsy, I love you, but you're doing that thing again. This isn't a real movie. Stop trying to act like it is."

Emily's shoulders sag, and she smiles resignedly. "No, I suppose it isn't. I've gotta go, we're filming in a few minutes. You two good?"

We both nod, and then we're left alone to produce some kind of abomination.

**Thanks for reading :)**

**I will be incorporating as many fun skins moments into terrible scripts, so keep reading lol**

**Tell me what you think**


	5. Chapter 5

This is really fucking difficult. Everything I write seems just too cheesy, or too tame, or too unrealistic. Cook keeps reassuring me, hovering over my shoulder while I attempt to form some kind of cohesive story. So far our repugnant heroes have found there way into the 'Forest of Desire'. That was Cook's idea, obviously.

_ "Naomikins," he says, chuckling, and using a nickname wholly inappropriate for our current relationship, "You can't be subtle here. I am using all of my artistic skill to not just call it 'Tits and Balls' Woods."_

_ I snort, "You have artistic skill? I hardly think that substituting filthy pornographic terms with cliches from grocery store romance novels is 'artistic skill'."_

_ "You're killing me, Naomikins! I'll have you know that I used to work for a very, very reputable newspaper. Top notch reporter here!"_

_ This earns him an eye-roll and extra snort. "So I'm to believe that you went from some normal job to working at a seedy porno company?"_

_ Cook sighs sadly, shaking his head. "Fucked it up, didn't I. Got in trouble with the fucking pigs, completely unfair."_

_ I try and keep my composure, though my detective senses perk up. Hmm. Yet another person here at Pleasure Productions with some sort of vendetta against the police. Lovely._

_ "Oh," I say noncommittally, "That is too bad. So..was it like a misdemeanor thing or a felony or..."_

_ Cook frowns, clenching his fists and looking away, "Does it really matter? Tried to help my brother and it all went to shit. Fucked up world we live in, innit?"_

_ There's a sense of finality in his voice, so I decide not to push it further for now. "Sorry, man. So, in this tale, they've just found some shrooms."_

[Ellie]: Oh, wow. Here are some mushrooms. Let us take them so we can get fucked up!"

_ "Naomi, that sounds like shit! Have you ever actually talked to a person?"_

_ "Okay, you little prick, I get it. More realistic."_

[Ellie]: Oh, wow. Look at these shrooms, we can get fucked up."

[Franky]: Yes. And not only that, but these have aphrodisiac qualities."

_ "Lemme type," Cook says, "You're being all technical." He adjusts the the sentence, adding more adjectives, like 'super-horny' and 'ready-to-fuck'. Jesus Christ._

_"I need to use the loo," I say finally, dashing out of the room. Once I find myself in the slightly filthy bathroom, I let myself slide down the wall, 'til I'm sitting on the dirt-encrusted floor. Fuck. I cannot do this._

_ "Naomi? Are you okay?"_

_ Aw, fuck. Emily. "Yeah," I mutter, "Sorry, I have a killer headache."_

_ Emily kneels down beside me, taking my hand comfortingly. "Sure it's not just the shock of working in the industry?"_

_ I bite my lip, nodding nervously. Jesus, I'm the worst undercover DS ever._

_ "Well don't worry—my first day here, I actually threw up in my mouth a bit. It was during the filming of a very, very specific fetish film, specially commissioned by a rich pervert. I thought I was going to have to fake my own death and move to Cambodia. But...the next day, I just thought 'fuck-it', if I can make it through the day one hour at a time, everything with be okay. You'll get used to it, I promise."_

_ I feel a smile coming on, my hand still loosely entangled with Emily's. "Thanks. That does help."_

_ "Anytime," she says, smiling, as she stands back up and washes her hands. "Would you, uh, like to go out for drinks after work tonight?" She must sense my confusion, because she quickly amends her question. "I mean, will you let me take you out tonight? In the spirit of friendship and new __beginnings, even if it does involve porn?"_

_ Shit. I'm supposed to be briefing Freddy on all of the updates of the day, but I still hear myself agreeing happily. "Yes, that would be lovely."_

Back in the writer's room, Cook and I seem to be at an impasse.

"Naomi, stop worrying so much!" Cook says in my ear, giving my shoulders an unwelcome squeeze. "So we have these characters...remember them? They feature in a lot of our films."

"Not really," I groan, putting my face in my hands. "Remind me."

"There's Ellie, cool and aloof; Clark, a bad boy; 'good girl' Emmy, bitchtastic Kacey; and dark horse Theo. And Franky. Oh, and Natalie. Maybe.. We're still working with her for the contract stuff, being a real bitch about it."

"I thought there were more of them."

"Well we don't use every actor in every movie. Would be fucking expensive as hell, and people sometimes get confused. We only do that when it is a major orgy scene." He chuckles to himself, clearly revisiting some lewd memory.

"Okay. I think I can do this."

"If we need to watch some more of the old footage, I can go get some! _College Sluts 69_ is definitely one of my favorites!"

"No, no!" I quickly assure him, "I think I've got this. So Kacey and Ellie are in the woods by themselves now?"

Cooks nods, and says something about getting a coffee.

My fingers begin to move rapidly..I think I'm getting in the swing of things.

_[K] : You bitch! I saw you fucking my boyfriend! How could you do that? It makes me so angry. I think I need to fuck you to make it better._

_[E]: Yes. We did have sex. It was really hot. And wow, these drugs are making me see double. It's like you have two pairs of tits! Amazing tits!_

_[K]: Of course I have amazing tits. I'm Kacey fucking French! And I was watching you and Franky. It made me so mad..and horny. Very horny._

_K pushes E to the ground._

_They struggle for a while. Clothes begin to come off. Now they have no clothes. Struggle ensues._

_[K]: Did you just hit me in the head with a rock?_

_[E]: Yes. I cannot control my lust for you. It makes me do stupid stuff, like fucking boys. I really only have a massive female-boner for you._

_[K]: Me too. I am such a bitch, but you can tame me. With all of your sex things and stuff._

_They start to make out and other stuff. It is very arousing for everyone._

I smile as I look over my work. This sounds pretty fucking good. I'm no expert in pornography, but this can't be too far off the mark. Before I can dart out to have a celebratory cigarette, Emily pops in the door.

"So, it's quitting time. Ready to go?" She's all bundled up, coat and hat.

"You look adorable," I tell her, not knowing where the fuck that came from. "And yes. I just finished writing a scene."

"Oh?" Emily says, raising her eyebrows in slight disbelief, "Good job. Can I have a look?"

She moves over to the computer screen, scrolling down from the beginning, a small smile playing on her lips. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" I repeat, suddenly nervous.

"Yes, interesting." Then she lets out a snort that turns to into a chuckle and then a full on belly-laugh.

"Hey!"

Emily turns me, tears practically streaming down her face, still laughing. "Sorry, sorry. It's just..so terrible!" The look on my face sobers her up a bit. "But that's okay. Terrible is good. We can use this script. So come on, let's go get that drink."

I nervously keep checking my surroundings in the smoky haze of the bar Emily brought me to. I've never been here before, thankfully, and I don't seem to recognize anyone. That would be truly disastrous. I know that I've already fucked up, just by accepting her invitation. Instead of going to the station and debriefing Freddy, I've agreed to go out for a drink with a woman who could very well be a criminal. And try as I might to convince myself that this outing is a good thing for the investigation, that talking in an informal setting might loosen her her up a bit, I know that I had no thought of my job when I agreed to this 'date'.

**Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

"So, Naomi," Emily says huskily, "How was your first day at Pleasure Productions?:

"Um," I mumble, "It was okay. Interesting, enlightening. Horrifying."

She laughs and once again grabs my hand. "Don't worry, really. I can assure you that things will get easier."

I ignore the slight tingling in my hand and say, as cool, snarky, and aloof as I can manage, "Not sure if I want that. One day it's just writing the porn, the next it's starring in it."

"No," Emily says with a chuckle, shaking her head, "You don't have the right stuff for it. Being in the porn, that is."

"Geez, why does everyone keep saying that?" I say, exasperation ruining my suave and cool demeanor. Emily raises her eyes in question, grinning, evidently finding my lack of the porno 'it' factor amusing. "Well the receptionist told me I wasn't cut out for it. Kinda shakes my confidence, doesn't it? I never thought I would be the bloody Prime Minister or become a billionaire, but I think I can handle having sex on screen. I know I can!" I wince at this unfortunate phrase, makes me sound pervy. "I mean, I don't _know_ know because I've not been producing sex tapes or anything."

_Jesus christ, you twat, stop talking! She would never have thought of that, you just inserted it into her mind._

Emily smiles at me indulgently, with the kind of fond like you would give a child who's stripped naked and run around a church...like I might be just a bit stupid..but cute anyway.

"That is good to hear," she offers, "Neither have I. Cheers, that's something we have in common." She clinks her glass against mine, my face turning redder.

In effort to turn the conversation away from me and my awkwardness, I try to turn on detective mode. Even though I might be inexplicably acting like a blithering idiot right now, it doesn't mean I can't get some nuggets of information. "So Cook says he had a good job, but lost it. Something about the police..Sounds ghastly."

I pause here, hoping Emily will fill in the blank, but she doesn't. Instead she turns away for a second, and clenches her hand around her glass hard. "I..I don't talk about people behind their backs," she finally says stiffly.

Shit. "Oh, no. I didn't mean that really..It was just that I can't imagine Cook in a regular setting. I don't gossip either." Clearly a lie.

"Nah, it's nothing major. A drug offense. Stupid shit."

"A drug offense is nothing to laugh at!" I snap, years of handling dealers and arresting high people causing me to have an embarrassing kneejerk reaction. "I just mean that, um, drugs can ruin families and people don't need them to to have a good time."

"Fucking hell, Naomi, you sound like you're reading the script from some after-school special, PSA nonsense. Are you saying that you've never partaken in a little bit of..." she trails off, smiling conspiratorially.

"Well..yeah. I dunno, spending time with my dad, who I remind you was a police officer, makes me a bit wary of the stuff. So was Cook like some sort of crime boss?"

"Jesus, no." She laughs, " Of course not. Cook had a few marks on his records from when he was a teenager, fighting, public intoxication, that sort of stuff. Police did not like him, thought he was just trouble. So when he took the rap for his little brother, Paddy, they took him down. His boss found out and fired him. It was really sad, too. Finally had his life together."

"Oh," I say, trying not to let loose any more police type propaganda, or to let on that I'm not 'cool new-writer Naomi'.

The conversation is killed slightly by this turn, and I think we're both grateful for the insistent buzzing of my phone. I check the screen to see that it's Freddy.

_Where the fuck are you? Gone awol or wot?_

_Naomi dont pull this shit now_

_if I dont get a response in like 15 minutes, im sending in the cavalry_

"Oh shit," I say, reading the last one. I don't doubt that he will send in reinforcements—for all they know, I've stumbled into a massive criminal enterprise and am being tortured..or something.

"Problems?"

"Just my, uh, flatmate, Freddy. Wants to know where I am."

"Well what business is that of his?" Emily asks, smiling. "Is he your flatmate or your bedmate?"

"Flatmate," I say distractedly, typing out a response, "He's too bland for anything else."

_Im fine...gone to get drinks w/new boss..for recon purposes...just normal business_

I receive a text back immediately, and though it doesn't have any angry emoticons, I can tell that Freddy is pissed. Pissed, but at ease with my whereabouts.

"Bland, eh? Like them fiery, Naomi?" Emily asks with a coquettish smile that makes my stomach roil unpleasantly.

"No," I force myself to say, knowing that I'm going into unsafe territory here. "Just normal people..not porn stars, of course."

"Mmm. So, any lucky guy in the picture?"

I think back to my cover story. "Nope. Just my cat." _Shit. I sound like a fucking pathetic idiot. _"You? Any lady?"

"No," she says, looking me straight in the eye. "No one."

"How nice!" I retort, voice gone high. Geez, switch back to detective mode, Naomi. "So I've been wondering all night,"

"Yes," she practically purrs, leaning in.

"How do you find actors? Go to, uh, colleges and scout them out?"

"Not quite," she responds, a hint of disappointment her voice. "They find us usually. Mid-twenties is the norm, people who haven't been able to find suitable work elsewhere. Like us, but more willing to take off their clothes."

"Oh." Hmm, that's not a good lead.

An attractive blonde walks up to our table, inane smile in place, and turns to Emily. "Hi, Em."

"Oh hey," Emily says, sounding genuinely happy to see her, "How are you?"

"I'm good," the woman says, "So, found another one?" She points to me, stupid grin still plastered on her face.

"Oh no. No, no, no. This is my new colleague, Naomi. Thought we could get a drink, get to know each other a bit better."

"I'm sure," Blondie says, in the same patronizing tone. "That's how it always starts with you, isn't it?"

Emily has the decency to look embarrassed, eyes flickering over to me before evenly telling the woman, "No, Cheryl. We are just coworkers."

"Oh," 'Cheryl' says, giving me an appraising look, "Well if you're ever interested, _Naomi_, then give me a call."

"Fuck off!" Emily says, pushing her friend away. "We came here in an official capacity—she's not looking to be hit on." Cheryl shrugs and walks to the other end of the bar, chatting up a brunette immediately.

The atmosphere of the date has changed...wait, this isn't a date, it's a work meeting. It shouldn't bother me that Emily apparently takes a lot of women here, shouldn't bother me that she just sees me as a colleague.

A few awkward drinks later, we're walking out of the pub.

"Let me walk you to your car," Emily offers, "This can be a rough place at night sometimes."

"Oh, and you'd protect me?" I counter, "Not very intimidating."

But before she can retort, there's a man, no two men, standing in front of us. One has a knife, the other a bat.

"Give us your fucking wallets! And phones" one of them yells. "No one has to get hurt!"

Emily looks at me, fear evident in her eyes, and shakily pulls out her wallet and phone. The mugger tries to snatch them, but he makes a mistake. He pushes Emily, hard, and she topples to the ground.

I go in to automatic cop mode, kicking one of the assholes in the chest, while wresting the bat from the other's hand. The bat connects with his kneecaps, groin, and chest in quick succession. The mugger armed with the knife advances, but he, too, is quickly dispatched by a roundhouse kick.

Now with both weapons, and rage emanating from my body, the men run off.

"Are you okay?" I ask Emily, offering her my hand.

"Fuck! What the fuck was that? Shit!"

"Hey, it'll be okay. Muggings happen a lot."

"I know that!" she yells hysterically, arms swinging wildly. "I meant that whole kung fu Chuck Norris thing you had going on!"

"Oh..I took karate." She looks at me blankly. "At, uh, summer camp...it was overnight. So yeah, pretty intensive."

Emily doesn't say anything still, mouth hanging open.

Well fuck. This day has been complete shit.

**Tell me what you think! I loved all of your reviews from last chapter, prompted me to update!**

**Maybe I'll keep it up..hopefully.**


	7. Kung fu Chuck Norris

**Short update, sorry!**

"So you're really okay?" I ask Emily, who is still standing in front of me looking shocked. "You're not hurt? That fall looked painful."

"No, I'm good," she tells me, "Think I have a bloody knee, though. Annoying little fuckers."

I glance at her legs, purely in the interest of safety and concern, and notice the tear in her leggings and slight blood stain. "That looks pretty nasty. I have a first aid kit in my car, if you want to clean it up."

She ponders my question, "Are you a secret agent?"

"What?"

"Well you took out two huge thugs in like 20 seconds...so there are only a few logical options of why you have such good fighting prowess. Secret agent first, super-hero second, and ninja last. Because a real ninja wouldn't have let on that they were a ninja..they would just kick ass and be totally incognito. Masters of stealth and obscurity. Whereas you are like a kung fu elephant. Not discreet at all." Emily says dreamily, finger on her lips like she's thinking hard. "But you could be like James Bond...0069, right? Nah, you're not charming or suave enough...Sorry, I mean you're nice and all, just not cut out for 'd be a terrible secret agent!" She then starts laughing, which I would find cuter or more amusing had she not just insulted me in a most grievous manner.

My undercover skills are under fire, my suaveness and charmingness, and my apparent similarity to an elephant are all making me slightly enraged...just slightly. But I suppose that Emily's reluctance to believe in my skill as an undercover agent is, in fact, the biggest compliment she could give me. I'm so good, I appear bad. I've almost managed to convince myself of that when Emily interrupts my self-aggrandizing train of thought.

"Oooh, your neck's gone all throbby...the veins, that is," Emily slurs as she attempts to poke my neck, almost toppling over.

"Are you drunk?" I ask, catching her before she hits the pavement again.

"Maybe a bit," she admits, swaying slightly. "Probably shouldn't have taken that last drink. Or the one before that. Or gotten in that drinking contest with the hobo."

"There wasn't a drinking contest with a hobo," I remind her.

"You went to the bathroom at the wrong time. I totally beat his bitch ass."

"Fucking hell, Emily, you're wasted." _How unprofessional. That would never happen with the police commissioner, or even the precinct head. If I were running a company, I wouldn't go and get trashed in front of my subordinate on the very first day._

I drape her arm around my shoulder and drag my very intoxicated boss to my car. "You are not driving," I tell her firmly.

"Sorry," Emily mumbles.

"It's fine," I say, trying not to sound too terse. I still need to check in with Freddy and now I've got to drop Emily wherever she lives. It could be a fucking hour away.

"I don't normally do this," she tells me, sounding slightly more sober, "Getting shit-faced, in front of you especially."

"I hope not. You're a horrible drunk."

"I haven't puked anywhere," she retorts angrily. "Aaand, I haven't groped you...right?"

"No. I don't think that the absence of a sexual harassment report means that you're well-behaved. And you did liken me to an elephant. That wasn't very kind."

"I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm used to dealing with inebriated idiots. Where do you live?"

"Uhh...can you just take me back to the studio?"

"The studio? You wanna go back to work? Just tell me where you live.. I'm not gonna become some weirdo stalker."

"I don't wanna go home," she whines. Did I really find her attractive just hours ago? "Please? I have a cot there."

Normally I wouldn't agree, but I've got too much on my plate to look after her. The ride back to the studio is largely silent, and I know my second day of work is going to be horribly awkward. Great.

"Where the fuck were you?" Freddy sounds angry and disappointed (highly typical for him), and is trying to use the puppy-dog look that is ridiculous on a grown man.

"Save it," I mutter, pushing him away from my desk.

It's 6 AM, and I'm at the station doing what I should have done last night instead of going on a dreadful work-date with my alcoholic boss..No, that's not quite right, I suppose. She said that she normally wasn't much of a drinker, and I'm going to hope that she was telling the truth. It will be all the more difficult to complete this assignment if she's passed out or hungover. The initial paperwork on the undercover operation needs to be completed before I go in to work today.

"Naomi, you have to follow the rules," Freddy says, continuing to pester me when he should be fetching me a coffee or jumping out of a window. "You can't just ignore a scheduled check-in."

"Freddy, I got nothing during work. Nada. Not a single trail to anything. So I made a decision, in the moment, to pursue an opportunity. An opportunity outside of the constraints that come with the office environment."

"You could have been dead, Naomi," Freddy insists. He became such an uptight little bitch with his promotion. Practically a lap dog to the upper echelons of power. And I've become a whiny uptight bitch as well, it seems.

"Really? We're investigating a prostitution front, Freddy. What are they going to do, literally fuck me to death? Oh no, I'm being sexed to death! Help me!"

"I don't care, just don't skip out again. You need to be on time, so you better get going." His face softens a bit, turning in the Freddy I knew before he became my superior. "I'll finish up this paperwork."

"Thanks," I answer honestly, "I'll try to be better."

**Thank you all so, so much for the wonderful reviews!**

**I will have another update up soon, it's partially written already...my sentences were started to get confused.**

**Tell me what you think :)**


	8. Lesbians on Unicorns

I'm currently sitting at my desk-the Pleasure Productions desk-and drinking my fourth cup of coffee. It's barely 9:00 and I already can't wait to go home. Scratch that, I don't even need to actually _go home_, I would settle for a variety of other things, less unpleasant than this. Getting in a death fight with a honey badger, sponge bathing the elderly, listening to a reading of the entire Twilight series by Gilbert Gottfried, or beginning a career in honeydipping. Really, I don't think I'm being too picky about this.

What is this, you might ask?

Staring blankly at a computer screen, porn script pulled up, and jumping every time I hear someone near the door. I'm expecting Emily to burst in any minute now. And at this stage in the surreal opera that has become my life since I began this assignment, I wouldn't be surprised if she rode in on a unicorn and told me that she was pregnant with my baby and would like if we to relocate to Mt Olympus because they have great schools up there. Okay, the bit about the unicorn was a bit much. I know that Emily and I are going to have to talk, most likely sooner than later.

The idea doesn't repulse me strangely, but I'd rather avoid the awkward situation. Me, I'm not one for all sorts of extracurricular activity among coworkers. That may sound odd given my excitement at the initial invitation yesterday, but for some reason I was not looking at Emily like a coworker.

Even now, I'm having trouble remembering that she is not just an attractive redhead who wants to be friends, that she is a suspect in a serious investigation and my superior. She doesn't give off a 'boss' vibe, seems pretty cool and chill (unlike other authority figures I know), and is quite touchy.

For example, last night she touched my arm a total of 15, yes, 15 times in a little over three hours. That averages to one touch every 12 minutes. And that's not including my interlude in the filthy toilets where I texted with my daft partner until he understood that I was not in imminent dangers. Plus, and I think this is a very important point, she also brushed other parts of my body.

Not like that, don't be a pervert. She brushed against my leg 8 times, put her hand over mine 3 times, and had wild passionate sex on the table with me 2 times. A bit of embellishment on my part, but I think I have a good idea for a porno—"Sexy Office Sluts 6!"

I notice each touch vividly, purely for detective purposes, and I know my numbers are right. I got a tingly feeling each time, and I mental tally of all the kinds of contact established. This makes me sound like Rainman, but you would notice it too if an attractive lady was getting all up in your personal space bubble.

"Naomikins!"

I feel a pair of arms wrap around me tightly and a head put on my shoulder. I can immediately tell it's Cook, from his excessively loud cry to the smell, no _stench_ of the cologne he apparently bathed in earlier.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, after I've shaken him off, sounding completely remorseless. "I was real busy last night. Had a biiig night."

"Mmm." I say, hoping that he won't go any further.

"Big night," he repeats excitedly, looking at me expectantly.

"What happened, Cook?" I ask dully.

"I," he says proudly, "had it off with a stunning lady!"

"Mmm. Good job. But it doesn't count for much if it's a hooker, Cook."

I don't intend the jab to be anything more than a barb in his impermeable ego, but he stiffens slightly. Hmm. "So, where did you find her?" Pleasure Productions, maybe?

"I'll have you know that it was a regular lady that I met in a club. I will also have you know that I have not seen a prostitute in years! Too fuckin' expensive, 10 pounds for a hand job? No, thank you."

"That's a pretty specific figure, Cook. You know a lot about prostitution?" I can feel my Spidey senses tingling. The investigation's first lead!

He scoffs, "No. That was for a friend. I got it for a friend. I don't need to pay women."

"You got a handjob..for your friend? You know it's not like buying a laptop and handing it over. Ew, was he watching or something?"

"I was looking into it for him! Thought he might need a little help. Turned into a fucking pussy though, only kissed the woman!"

"I think kissing can be very sexy in itself," Emily says huskily, shutting the door she silently entered through. She's looking at me when she says this, not Cook, and I feel an lurch in my gut.

"Hey, Emily," I mumble, swiveling back around to my computer screen and the blank document that awaits me.

"Cook, can you...step out for a minute?" Emily asks.

"Sure thing, Em. Gotta get some-" I can see him making pelvic thrusts in the corner of my eye, "and get acquainted." He steps out of the room, making a point of animatedly shutting the door tightly.

"Will you turn around?" Emily asks, "You're acting very strange. Is everything okay?"

I'm paralyzed for a second, so Emily swings my chair around forcefully.

She licks her lips and leans in close, inches from my face, before spitting out,"Naomi, when I tell you something to do, do it!"

Fuck me that was sexy.

"You haven't produced anything yet, you've ignored my email and my text requesting that you come to my office this morning, and now you've turned into a silent lump."

Did I not mention her texts and emails? Oops.

"Sorry. I, um..."

"Look, I'm sorry if you got weirded out last night. I know I shouldn't have gotten so many drinks, I'm a lightweight. And it was inappropriate, I realize. I won't ask you to do anything off hours ever again."

I feel my stomach drop and palms get sweaty. No, no. I definitely want to do more things with Emily...for work purposes, right.

Emily takes my shocked and dismayed silence to mean something else. "Is this because I'm gay? Because I can assure you, I do not fancy you in the slightest! So don't be paranoid. I'm going to come back in two hours and I want some scripts. If the harmless night we had was too much for you, then you definitely can't handle working here."

It hurts. I, obviously, did not think that Emily was interested in me. Even though she kept touching me, and making flirtatious comments, and swooning over my martial arts skill. But, as anyone would, of course, I don't want to hear that someone doesn't like me..at all. Simple human reaction, nothing more than that.

Emily doesn't wait for me to respond, just slams the door shut as she storms off.

**Thank you all so, so much for the wonderful reviews!**

**I will have another update up soon**

**Tell me what you think :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Fuck my life. That's all I have to say right now. I have no desire for any more human interaction, ever. Probably. My week, which started out as terrible and ended as disastrous, culminating with the silent treatment from Emily for the past three days, has been the worst experience of my whole life.

And I'm starting to sound like a thirteen year old girl who's just discovered that waaah, life sucks and it would be better if everyone just died and maybe I should take some high contrast pictures of myself in the mirror with a poetic ode to my transcendent worldview pasted over them.

Did I mention the silent treatment? While the full-on Chartusian Monk silence has luckily been restricted to just Emily, everyone-and I mean everyone-at Pleasure Productions has reverted back to caveman-like grunts and monosyllabic responses to any of my requests. It's almost as if they all had a collective puppy that I skinned and made into a hat.

While I would normally not mind this sort of stuff, it is really, really difficult to get information out of people when they just glower and say 'yes' or 'no' or 'uhh'. Seems Emily is pretty popular here, and I, as I am wont to do, have massively fucked it up with the one girl who matters...to the investigation, obviously.

Effy gave me more advice, somewhat unbidden, and the frosty reception has eased a bit since I implemented her strategies.

_"Fuck," I moan, hitting my head against the wall behind me. "Fuck. What the hell am I going to do?"_

_ "Doesn't do much good to stand out here in the cold does it?"_

_ Effy is suddenly there and the uneasy feeling that settles in when she appears comes on full force. I turn to her and raise my eyebrows. "So, gotta any other tips you'd like to share?"_

_ "Hmm," she ponders, "You might me too much of a fuckwit to do anything."_

_ "Hmmph!" I snort, "I am not a fuckwit. We had a misunderstanding, just as many people do in the early stages of a relationship. A work relationship."_

_ I expect her to say something, but instead she just stares at me like she knows all my secrets. What I am not expecting is the hard slap she gives me to the back of the head._

_ "If at possible, act like a normal human being. For most people, this includes not insulting someone at every possible opportunity. Be pleasant, friendly, a smile wouldn't hurt."_

_ "You don't smile," I interject._

_ "Caught me, I'm a hypocrite. Just keep all those negative thoughts to yourself."_

_ "What am I supposed to do to make Emily like me?"_

_ "Like you?"_

_ "Well," I say, "I mean I don't want her to hate me."_

_ Effy smiles slightly at this, and says in her extra-infuriating tone, "Those are two very different things, Naomi. Learn to differentiate. Emily appreciates productivity, civility, and work ethic. Come early, stay late, and write some pornos that we can actually use. I read your last one and it was the least arousing thing I've ever seen. I've read grocery lists with more sexual charge."_

_ "Can't I just buy her more cookies?" I whine. I do not have time to come in early and stay late!_

_ "No," she says, taking more pleasure in my misery than she should. She opens the door to head back inside, but not without a final piece of advice and a wink. "Cookies won't work, but a bit of cleavage might."_

I had tried all of her recommendations. Coming in early and staying late made me exhausted and burnt out. Writing better pornos involved me, my laptop, and all the porn I could find (hint: they all end the same). And I certainly showed plenty of cleavage, and at a certain point it seemed more reasonable to just wear some pasties. That last one ensured I had Cook's full attention for the entire day. Oh, silly me, I've misspoken. My tits has Cook's attention all day.

But like I said, it helped a bit.

The script on my computer is beginning to come together—my sixth total. I'm hoping that it will get the greenlight for shooting soon. Sort of. It's really weird to think that people will be acting out what I've written. I'm like a sexual puppetmaster...which makes me sound like a creepy pervert.

Current project title: MILFs UK 8

_Handsome young man 1: Colin_

_MILF: Ann_

_[Colin holds bags of food and cake. Knocks on door; Milf answers]_

_**Colin: **Hello, Ann, take me to your kitchen. Your daughter's in for a real fucking treat. Four courses, fancy shit: pesto, salmon, salad._

_**Ann: **Love, she's gone._

_**Colin **Okay, what time's she back?_

_**Ann: **Not till tomorrow. They've gone to some party at Gobbler's End._

_**Colin: **Nah, because... we're supposed to hang out tonight!_

_**Ann: **Is that before you broke up or after?_

_**Colin: **But... I bought a fucking gâteau! Black Forest!_

_**Ann: **Ooh, my favourite!_ _**Colin: **Black Forest?_ _[Ann pulls Colin in by the collar]_

_**Ann: **No, handsome young boyfriends. Rrrr."_  
That sounds pretty fucking awesome, doesn't it? The exposition is the most fun part, the rest is just describing sex acts and other rather unsanitary things. I hear the door open and a the distinctive smell of Emily's perfume hits me. I would recognize it anywhere, I've taken great care to frequently examine features about Emily over the past few days.

My senses are finely attuned to her. Her walk, her voice, her face, her uh body, the way she talks...of course, it's in a normal investigative manner. She might try and jump me in an alleyway or something.

"Naomi," she says, turning her husky voice to me for the first time in-I check the clock-roughly three days and one hour.

"Hi!" I say, a bit too chipperly, trying to smile like Effy told me to.

Emily looks at me strangely with a faint hint of concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes! I am doing wonderfully! How are you?"

Looking taken aback, she tells me, "I'm okay. Glad to see such, uh, enthusiasm. Are you sure you're alright?"

I widen my smile because the problem surely lies in my inadequate expression of joy. "Never been better!"

"Oh. You look like you're having a stroke."

The smile fades a bit, and I feel a bitchy response on my lips. No! "No, no. I just-I wanted to be more friendly. I know we got off on the wrong foot, and then did so again, but I never intended to offend you. I was having a shitty day." I find myself smiling naturally at this.

She nods appraisingly, and says a bit softly, "I may have overreacted a bit too. I've been shafted before because of my sexuality. So I'm a bit defensive."

"It's all fine with me."

"Good. Do you want to get a ride with me?"

"What?" I ask. Ride to where?

"The doctor's office?" She looks at me expectantly, like this is supposed to mean something. I search my brain frantically for any information pertaining to doctor's offices, in any sense. Is this some sort of sexual code? Oh god, what possible sex act could that be? "Are you sure you're don't have some sort of...head injury? Or fever?"

She presses her hand to my forehead, causing me to hyperventilate, and not easing any of her concern.

"Wait, is this because of what we're going to do?"

I shake my head, but Emily doesn't believe me. "It'll be easy, Naomi. I know some people are nervous..." she looks at, smiling, and meeting my gaze, "Especially if it's their first time, right?"

Jesus fucking Christ!

"I don't like kinky sex! Well I don't think people should resort to it, especially the first time they have sex together!"

Emily looks extremely confused at this point, at least as confused as I feel. "What?"

I want to dart out of the room so badly right now. Emily is still uncomfortably close, bodies almost touching.

Trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, I try and explain, "I don't want to 'Ride to the doctor' with you-" I do the airquotes, but Emily looks more baffled. "-I mean, you're an attractive lady and I wouldn't put sex out of the picture forever or anything, but I think we should focus on work right now."

Something finally clicks with her, or at least it seems to, but then she starts laughing. Hard. Oh my god, I think I've broken her. She finally manages to choke out, "Naomi, we're having a company wide trip to the doctor to get everyone checked out. I was offering you a literal ride to the office. We always to a specific one that can handle our...special needs. It's kind of out of the way and confusing to get to; I didn't want you to get lost. Did you not get my email?"

My face turns bright red. "No."

"And thus you thought I was sexually propositioning you?"

"Yes." A thought strikes me. "Not because you're gay. Well yes, but not just because I think lesbians want to sleep with every girl they meet. I have nothing against it."

Emily smiles widely, "No worries. As I recall, you implied that you would consider having sex with me in the future."

"Oh. So why do we have to go to the doctor?"

"You don't read company email?" Emily asks, still sounding amused. I shake my head and pull up my browser. Ah. Here it is.

_Re: Doctor's Visit_ _So as many of you know, it's that time again. We have a full round of tests for all personnel, usual place. Please arrive no later than 1:00, bring a side dish as usual._ _-Emily_

"Bring a side dish?" I ask aloud, after rereading the phrase several times. "What does that mean?"

"Well," Emily says, rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably, "We usually have a potluck sort of thing when we get tested. I know it sounds bizarre, but I thought it might lighten things up and make it more fun. It's not the ideal setting, I know, but I think we should make it as enjoyable as possible."

"By having a potluck? Where?"

"The clinic we use only takes up two stories of a three story building. The third floor is uninhabited and kinda creepy. They let us up there—we are some of their best customers, loyal and frequent."

"Oh."

Emily smiles at me again, and takes my hand. "C'mon, we can talk on the way."


	10. Chapter 10

**Not sure about this one lol**

Emily keeps a loose grip on my hand until we reach her car—that means two corridors, a flight of stairs and a trek through the large parking garage. It's not uncomfortable or unpleasant, but I notice my heartbeat start to race a bit and I hope my palms don't become sweaty. She has really soft hands, smaller than mine, and chipped red nail polish that almost matches her hair.

I allow myself to be pulled along because I like the feel of her hand in mine, and because I'm trying to make the effort to not piss her off again. Friendship will lead to trust which will, in turn, lead to clues and information about the case. Yes, I've come to realize that I will have to get very, very close to Emily in order to complete this assignment. I mean, other people would be involved maybe, and the wrongdoings of the company might not extend to her control...

But still...it would be very wise for me to form a close bond with her. I wouldn't be doing a good job if I _wasn't_ getting close to the management.

"What are you so deep in thought about?" Emily asks, elbowing me in the stomach.

"Ow!" I yell, "That hurt!"

"Did not, you big baby," Emily retorts, elbowing me again, even harder. "You can take it."

Before I can come up with a scathing response, I see her opening my door for me. Aww, such a gentleman. Sort of.

"Get in the car!" she shouts with fake aggravation, poking me in the same spot yet again, "Geez woman, do I have to make you!"

Even though she's joking and I find it rather cute and amusing, I don't want her to operate under the delusion that she is in control when I am the real puppet master. Obviously. I whirl around, putting my hands on her shoulders. She inhales sharply.

"How would you feel if I pushed you up against the car?" With just a little shove, she's pressed up against the rear door, my body almost touching hers, my face only inches away from eager brown eyes and suddenly moistened lips.

"No," I answer for her, watching as her eyes dart to my own lips. She leans forward, gets a tiny bit closer, and I can feel her breath on my cheeks.

Before she can do anything that either of us would regret, I slide into the passenger seat and slam the door shut. Fuck. She doesn't move for a few seconds. When she eventually does get in the car, I can hear her breathing, shallow and labored. The air is thick with tension—we both know that we're going into dangerous territory. We don't say anything for a while, not when she starts the car up, not when we leave the parking lot, and not when we turn onto to the road that shall henceforth be called 'the road that never fucking ends."

"You poked me in the appendix," I say finally, "And you probably gave me a bruise." What a lame attempt at conversation.

She smiles though, and some of the tension dissipates. "I wasn't aware that you possessed the ability to fell your appendix."

"Some of us are more in tune with our bodies," I retort haughtily, folding my arms.

"Hmm..I would respect that more if I had been poking you in your right side. You know, where the appendix actually is."

"Maybe I have a condition where my organs are reversed!"

Emily scoffs, "If you had such a condition, you would know what it's called, wouldn't you?"

"I do! It's um...situs oppisitus."

"You're close, I think. It's situs inversus, if I'm not mistaken."

"Emily, had the hell did you know that?"

"I took Latin!" she replies, sounding rather smug. "And there was an article in the paper recently about someone who had it. I imagine that's where you got your start from."

I shrug noncommittally, "Doesn't mean anything."

Emily grins at this, and reaches her hand out, placing it over my now-racing heart.

"You're groping me," I point out, not minding it in the least.

"I can feel your heart beating," Emily says, voice a little lower and huskier than normal. She keeps her hand over my chest for a moment more, seeming to enjoy my reaction. Her hands trails up to my neck, rubbing along my collar bone. She watches me carefully, grinning smugly as I shiver slightly.

"Okay, you caught me," I say, trying to sound indignant, but really tripping over my words, "So you can remove your hand, if you don't plan on groping me any more."

"And if I do plan on groping you?" she asks, smiling when I inhale sharply. But then she laughs and slides her hand down briefly, copping a feel, before returning both hands to the wheel.

"We get into the weirdest conversations," I tell her.

"Yeah, well weird stuff starts happening to people when they enter this industry. We're almost there."

"Oh." Yay, I can barely contain my enthusiasm.

"Do you not like the doctor?"

"Not really."

"Well you might like this one."

"I doubt it."

Emily shrugs, "She's a really nice lady, kinda. Very efficient, discreet, charges reasonable prices. We go the private treatment route, obviously. No NHS nonsense."

"Oh," I say, pretending to sound interested. I don't care what she says, I'm gonna hate this lady as much as any of the other doctors I've seen. They're very handsy, doctors. Nosy, too. I mean, I understand that it's their job, but usually I don't let people see me without my clothes until after several dates. And the unsolicited advice. Very annoying.

"We used to date," Emily says in an even voice, facing directly ahead, though I can see her eyes dart over to see what my reaction is.

"Really? What happened?"

Emily chuckles, "It was only one date actually. She kept asking me out, and she's charming and attractive, so I eventually caved. It went terribly—she just kept talking about herself and how successful she was, and telling me that I could do better than porn. And she tried to get me to sleep with her because she thought I just had to be a slut due to my profession."

I can't deny the happiness that fills me at the thought of Emily on a _bad_ date, the opposite of the sinking feeling in my gut that struck me when she first mentioned it.

"What an idiot. Even I would not fuck up a first date. How did it not mess up your work relationship?"

She shrugs again, "It kinda did. She thought it went great. Some people confuse disinterest with 'hard to get'. Last time I told her I was dating someone, but I dunno if she believes me."

"Well I'll make sure to be extra uptight and needy. To make it a little better."

"How would that help me?"

I laugh, "Oh it wouldn't help you. I already dislike this bitch for not treating you right."

Emily smiles at this, and hesitantly reaches out for my hand. She squeezes it tightly for a second, and releases far to soon for my liking. "We're here."

* * *

It goes by quicker than I thought it would. I don't have any infections, I know that. I haven't slept with anyone in ages, and I got everything checked out recently too. It was a bit awkward with all of the other employees milling about. The porn stars stand out from everyone else—blonde, implants, fake tans. Gross, really. I would much prefer a more natural girl, hopefully one with a little bit of substance. As if on cue, Emily pops out of the office. She went last, so hopefully we're all done with this last bit of medical stuff and we can proceed into our bizarre office picnic.

Emily walks over to me, looking a bit concerned. "Dr. Nathans requested to see you."

"What? Why? And who is Dr. Nathans?"

"She's the one I mentioned earlier. She looked at your medical history and said you needed to see her immediately. She's in the door over there."

"Oh. Well don't make everyone wait for me. Just go ahead and start without me."

She nods, then rushes out in a blur, "Idon'twanttoleaveyouallalone."

"What?"

"I don't want to leave you all alone," she repeats, "She didn't say how serious it was."

"Fuck. Could you send the rest of them away?"

I can feel my anxiety rising as I push the door open. Then I realize that 'Naomi Smith' has a completely different medical record than I do, and feel an instant hit of relief. But my relief is short-lived.

"Hello, Naomi."

I can recognize that smug, bitchy voice anywhere. "Hi, Olivia," I spit out, "Or is it Dr Nathans now?"

The blonde beauty in front of me smiles, exposing her horrible smile. It has far too many teeth to be a normal smile. She looks like she could literally bite my head off. I suppose some introduction is in order. Olivia Nathans is an old friend. And by friend, I mean an infernal acquaintance that I can never seem to get rid of. We used to live next door to each other, which meant we spent a lot of time together. Neither of us really enjoyed it. Well maybe she did, she is a complete bitch and loved putting me down at every opportunity. Being a few years older, she reached every milestone before I did, and did it better. And just when I thought I had ditched her forever, she appears again.

"Yes, I suppose I am Dr Nathans now. I did go to medical school!" she chortles, sounding far too pleased with herself. "What did you end up doing? Oops, silly me. I know the answer! I really think you could have done better than porn, Naomi. Rather low-class, isn't it?"

"I work at a reputable establishment that pays well. I don't think class has anything to do with it."

She snorts, "Yes, yes. I'm not judging, of course. You know that I have your best interests in mind."

Like hell you do. I nod, plastering on the fakest smile I can force. "I know."

"I could probably get you a position sorting mail or something," she offers, "I know that you can't be happy where you are. I mean, you did use an alias. 'Naomi Smith', how clever. Nice touch with the hair too."

"That is so kind of you. I wouldn't want to put you out, though." Ugh, I can barely get the words out of my mouth.

"Oh, you wouldn't," she assures me, "Then we could see each other every day! Plus, you might be able to score me some points with your boss."

I play dumb, "Gordon?"

"No, the hot redhead, Emily." She gets a far-off look, and I can tell she's totally perving! She's imagining Emily naked or something! They're probably naked together, laughing at me in her fantasy. I feel my blood begin to boil. I hate this bitch so fucking much. "Oh, she's at the door. Can I let her in?"

Olivia doesn't wait for an answer, just opens the door and welcomes Emily in. With a hug that stretches on and on. I see Emily begin to squirm again, sending me a 'HELP ME' with her eyes. Dr. Bitchypants finally lets go, staring at Emily likes she's a really tasty steak.

"Is Naomi okay?" Emily asks, sounding genuinely worried.

"Oh yes," Olivia says, "We're old friends."

"Yep," I agree, "Very close friends."

"So Emily," Olivia says, trying to sound seductive, "what do you think about dinner between the two of us?"

"Oh no! I will be busy then!" Emily squeaks out, voice gone high with fear.

"I didn't specify a date."

"Um...well, like I told you last time, I'm seeing someone."

Olivia's permasmile trembles slightly, "Still?" She sounds annoyed. "You didn't report any sexual activity in the past month."

Emily and I both stare at her now. Um...awkward? I also smile slightly to myself. "Well, Olivia, I don't think I should date my doctor anyway...and also, she was away on a business trip."

"I don't see any reason why we can't play while the cat is away."

Emily looks disturbed. "I would never cheat."

Before Olivia can say anything else in her stupid smarmy voice, I tell her, "And she's back now. Because she's me."

Both Emily and Olivia look at me as if I've sprouted another head. "I-I am Emily's girlfriend."

"Really?" Olivia asks disbelievingly, "_You're_her girlfriend?"

"Me," I respond proudly, wrapping an arm around Emily. Emily relaxes into my body a bit, and I smirk at Olivia. I've just won my first point in the competition that began when I was five and the Nathans family moved in next door. She looking between Emily and I suspiciously, and I'm aware that there are probably tons of holes in our new story, and I know that Olivia is smart enough to put everything together. So while I still can, I decide to kiss Emily. Y'know, for the story. I meet Emily's eyes, silently asking her for permission. Her only answer is a smile, eyes glinting brightly. It's nothing like a first kiss is supposed to be. No awkwardness, no faces bumping clumsily, no gross guy trying to stick his tongue down my throat. It just feels natural, the sensation of Emily's lips on mine, like this is what should happen and the universe is okay with it.

**I will have another update up soon and I take all suggestions**

**Tell me what you think :)**

**EDIT: I don't know why the formatting got messed up :/**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for not updating! Life got in the way lol**

**This chapter is a bit longer, maybe it will make up for the delay? ;)**

I intended for the kiss to be a quick peck, but all rational thoughts leave my head when my our lips finally meet. What remains is a pressing need to keep kissing Emily, and a sudden appreciation for the cherry chapstick she frequently applies because her lips are incredibly soft...mine are bitten and chapped, but Emily doesn't seem to mind. When I try to pull away after a few impossibly long seconds, she leans up and captures my lips again, her hand drifting to the back of my head and pulling me in closer. My heart flutters when her fingers brush against the sensitive skin on the back of my neck.

"Hmmph!" Someone in the room, the someone who is entirely unwelcome, clears her throat loudly.

Emily and I reluctantly break apart, neither of us appreciating the intrusion. Emily looks seriously pissed off, and folds her arms as she stares down the wench behind me. I know that I have one of my characteristic scowls plastered on my face. Olivia has to ruin everything all the time every single day of her fucking life.

"Excuse me?" Emily growls, somehow keeping her teeth pressed tightly together.

"Sorry, just clearing my throat, Ems," Olivia has the audacity to say, her smarmy smile still intact.

"Emily," my very angry boss corrects, "It's Emily."

"Emily," Olivia repeats, "Of course, yes." There's an awkward silence. "So I better let you two go. You have my number if anything changes, right Emily?" Olivia gestures between Emily and me.

"Well it won't, and I wouldn't call you ever anyway after what you just interrupted...Bye." Olivia and I both stare at Emily after this outburst. For once we are at peace with each other... Mainly because I think we are united in thinking: fuck me, that was sexy. I think I must have some sort of masochistic streak because I would instigate a conflict with Em just so I got to see her get aggressive...mmm. Before I can even give a gloating smile to my nemesis, Emily grabs my hand and pulls me from the office. I can only smirk at Olivia and give a little wave as I exit.

She doesn't let go of my hand even after I've gleefully slammed the door shut. Fuck yeah! I've won!

"Wow, Em, that was great!" I see her smile widely, so I continue, "I totally won there. She always wins, and I just kicked her ass! Great work, Ems, you really made the story work. That line about interrupting and never calling her? Brilliant! I think you should get in front of the camera sometime, Em, you're a great actress!" Emily stiffens almost imperceptibly, and I hurriedly try to amend my statement. "Not in the porn films, obviously...like um a normal one. Now I'm rambling, but you really were putting on a great show for the story!"

She stops abruptly, causing me to almost run into her. Then she stares at me angrily, as if I'm missing something huge. Her eyes have narrowed, and the friendly openness that I usually see on her face is gone completely, replaced with an incredulous scowl. "Story?"

"Yeah. The whole thing about us dating?"

She doesn't respond at first. Oh god, what if she wanted to go on a date with Olivia, what if she had changed her mind and now I've ruined it? Or what if she's going to feel weird because we've kissed? She's probably thinks I'm going to jump her or something!

"Sorry if that was the wrong thing to do, Em! The kiss. Don't worry, it meant nothing to me!"

"Don't worry, it meant nothing to you?" She swallows thickly, nods, and avoids my eyes. "So that was all pretend?"

Hmm. She seems hurt now, which I do not understand. "Why do you sound upset? You got rid of Olivia and I got to one up her." I suddenly feel self-conscious. "And I thought that was a pretty nice kiss..."

"Me too!" she cries, "Hence why I got annoyed by the interrupting of our _first kiss_!"

"But," I say dumbly, "That makes it sound like there would be more...this was just a one-off, right? It's not like we have a chance or anything, like as a couple. Fucking train wreck, that would be. Right?"

Fuck. That was not the right thing to say. Fuck. I wish I could process my thoughts before saying them. That would be a hurtful thing to say to anyone. Jesus, Naomi, you're such an asshole. A lying asshole. Clearly Emily has got something in her head about the two of us...can't blame her really, I am rather amazing. And now I've pissed her off again.

"Jesus, you're such a fucking idiot," Emily sighs "Just way too fucking obtuse."

She leans forward and gives me a searing kiss before storming away. Our lips are only connected for about three seconds, but I manage to lose myself in the sensation yet again. All too soon, she's pulled away and headed for the stairwell, her heels clicking angrily. She ignores my pleas for her stop, and gives me the finger.

"I'm sorry for being such a fucking idiot!" I call to her, hoping that she'll come back and then we can talk about why she freaked out about something so basic as a fake-kiss-to-scare-away-a-desperate-horny-slut. I ignore the thoughts that come, that tell me that I wanted the kiss, that I have more-than-friendly feelings for the petite redhead.

Emily doesn't come back, doesn't seem to care that I want to talk.

Shit. I lean back against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting on the shiny white floor. Dammit. Everything is fucked up again. Fucking Olivia, she started this. If she hadn't been such a disgusting perv, Emily and I would have never kissed. That would be the best thing really; Emily and I don't need to have any physical contact. My stomach drops uncomfortably at the thought.

_You want to kiss Emily._

I already did!

_You want to kiss her again._

No, I don't...well yes, I do. But it's just because she's fit and kind and funny and talented. Jesus christ, Naomi, get a hold of yourself. She might be a pimp! Plus she had the poor taste to accept a date from Olivia, she's obviously not right in the head. Olivia, fuck. I need to explain all this stupid investigative shit to her, can't let her ruin my cover story.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts before standing up and trying to put on my 'tough cop' face.

Olivia is surprised when I burst into the door, wielding my badge and looking angry as fuck.

"Police!" I bark, pushing her up against the wall, probably harder than necessary. My forearm pins her neck against the wall, and I take a sadistic pleasure as I see her eyes bulge out.

_Fucking teaches her to hit on Emily._ I release her from my hold after a few seconds, suddenly coming my senses. Fuck, why was I so aggressive? I can't just get physical with someone because I'm...what am I? Offended maybe? Don't like it when people are sexually harrassed.….Okay, I was jealous. And protective.

Her mouth drops open as she stares at me, completely baffled, while she rubs her neck.

"That fucking hurt, bitch." Her tone is more bewildered than angry, though.

"Police," I repeat, then elaborate, "I'm a police officer."

Olivia smirks and pushes me away. "Yeah, I got that from the badge and the yelling."

"Well anyway, I need you to stay away from Emily. Do not talk to her in any other way except about medical results for her and her staff." I poke her in the chest, jabbing angrily, my voice dripping with vitriol. "There will be consequences."

She laughs and sits down, gesturing for me to take a seat. "Sit, sit. Naomi, she's your girlfriend, I get that. I'm not going to keep hitting on her...okay, that's a lie, and we both know it." She chuckles again. "Honestly, you two looked great together, so I don't think I have much of a chance. Well if I really put my mind to it, I probably would. And I'm not legally obligated to ignore her or stick to purely medical topics just because you say so. You can't just control me or her like that. Don't be so insecure, it's a very unattractive quality that you can't pull off. You seem to think that I'm some sort of predator, that you have to protect Emily from me. She's an adult."

"You are a predator," I mutter, her words about my insecurity hitting home. "You always use women, steal girlfriends, ruin relationships."

"I haven't stolen _all _of your girlfriends, Naomi," Olivia says condescendingly, like I don't fucking know how many of my romantic interests she took from me. "You should be content with what you have. If Emily ends up choosing someone else, maybe me, maybe someone else, you need to accept it. Frankly it's a little disturbing for you to restrict who she talks with."

"I'll arrest you if even go near her," I retort angrily, pissed off for a variety of reasons, but mostly because she thinks she can still hit on Emily even though she knows that we're together..in the fabricated story, of course. I don't sit down because I don't intend to for this to be a short visit, I'm just going to tell her that she can never ever talk to Emily again because she's mine. I mean, she can't talk to Emily because I don't want her to blow my cover... "You will regret it, Liv."

"Hmm...I think I'll take my chances. You can't arrest someone because she thinks your girlfriend is hot and wants to fuck her senseless," Olivia says, sounding amused. "Plus, I have my doubts as to whether you really are with law enforcement. You are an '_actress_', how am I supposed to know this whole 'police' thing isn't an empty threat, based on your insecurities? You always were a pitiful little liar."

"I am fucking police officer! Jesus christ, you're fucking insufferable. Do you need to see my badge again? Call up my boss? Just ask for DS Campbell, that's me."

Olivia smiles, sharp teeth showing. "So if you are a police officer, then why are you working for a porn company? Is the pay really that shitty? Or are you some kind of sex maniac? Sexual deviant? Gets off on the idea of voyeurism? Can't get a girl to have sex with you unless she's getting paid?"

"I'm undercover, dumbass. Hence why you shouldn't talk to Emily at all. Especially about me. You know facts about my past that don't mesh with my cover. Best if you keep it completely professional with all members of this company in regards to me."

"You're undercover at a porn company? Tell me more, I'm intrigued." She motions for me to sit down again, and this time I find myself plopping down on to the couch and sprawling out. Despite my hatred for Olivia, she does know me well. And I've been dying to get some of this off my chest.

"There's nothing much to tell, Liv. There's been a few anonymous tips that Pleasure Productions is actually a prostitution front, using underaged foreign sex workers. So I'm investigating it all, and Emily really doesn't need to know anything more about me. If you tip her off that I'm not 'Naomi Smith', you could ruin the whole undercover operation. And yes, I could arrest you for impeding an investigation. Plus you wouldn't like getting pulled over all the time, or getting parking tickets. I can make your life hell."

Olivia's smile only grows wider at my words. "Don't you think it's a bit inappropriate for you to be dating the subject of your investigation? You're building something entirely on lies...Emily's hot, I know, and she must be amazing in bed for you to risk this, but you really should think about your career. And also, why would you date someone who is some sort of pedophile pimp?"

"She's not amazing in bed," I snap back angrily, ignoring the pedophile comment, "It's not like that."

"She's shit in bed?" Olivia pauses to consider this, nodding slowly, "In my fantasies, she was always quite proficient. More than proficient actually. Her voice is enough to just get me hot and bothered mmm...sorry, don't mean to perv on your woman. Have you considered that maybe your sex problems might be stemming another source? I mean Emily is an expect on all things sex. Fucking is her business."

She gestures towards me, smiling evilly, knowing that she's provoking me and insulting both me and my girlfriend..not that Emily is my girlfriend, of course. _Oh whatever, you're not sorry at all. And of course it isn't me. You're totally perving on her now, too. _My thoughts are invaded by images of Emily, naked, gasping my name. I feel light-headed at the very idea. I shift uncomfortably, feeling my skin crawl and my clothes fitting too tightly.

_Refocus, Naomi!_

"No, you gutter-minded troll, we're not sleeping together! I've never slept with Emily, okay?"

"Wow, she must have you whipped if she doesn't even put out! It's rather sad that a slutty porn star won't even fuck you. _Sorry,_ I mean _'director'_. What do you do then? She seems like rather a dim bulb, couldn't even understand half of the words I used on our date... You aren't much of an intellectual either, so that might work. Do you two just sit at home and watch soaps then? Or what, reviewing the pornos together before sending them out to the sad old men that buy them?"

"Wipe that disgusting smirk off your face, Liv. I'm not dating her. At all. We just told you that so that you would stop fucking perving on her and being a disgusting letch, and thinking impure thoughts about her. Fucking pervert. Emily finds you quite repulsive, and I think she was considering a move to a convent in order to avoid you. Or perhaps a sex change, so you wouldn't be attracted to her. You come on way too strong and are so fucking self-indulgent and you think you're the fittest person in the whole fucking world, but you're not, Liv. You are the sad old pervert here. Never had a chance with Em. She would rather pretend to date _me_ than even give you a shot, and I know how pathetic you think I am..so that says something, doesn't it?"

This is the first thing I've said that seems to hit her; Olivia's face darkens and an unattractive frown forms on her otherwise perfect features. Then she paints on another fake smiles and waves it off. "Well she sounds like a fucking tease anyway, and I get can get much better girls. Easily. I'll leave the ugly reject for you, as always."

"Easily, yes," I repeat, nodding, "I have no doubt that you could pull an attractive and successful girl, other than Emily. I don't think she would be better, though. Em's pretty amazing."

I bite my lip as I think about her, my heart thudding painfully in my chest, butterflies in my stomach. Olivia's comments rub me the wrong way, but I know that she looking for me to react badly. Not gonna give her the satisfaction. Olivia doesn't answer, just examines me carefully from her perch on the examination table.

After several long moments of silence, I say finally, "So are we all clear? You do not talk about my past or present with any Pleasure Production employee, do not pursue a romantic or sexual relationship with Emily, keep your fucking mouth shut about the investigation, and do not divulge the contents of this conversation with anyone."

"Okay," Olivia agrees, "I'll follow all the rules, DS Campbell. I wouldn't want to get in the way of 'important police business'."

"Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Nathans," I reply formally, standing up and moving towards the door. "I think we're all done here. If you have any questions, you may reach me at the Bristol Police department."

"Yes, I'll do that," Olivia says slowly, "I have one now." I nod at her. "What are you going to do about your massive crush on Emily?"

"I don't have a massive crush on Emily," I say quickly, a kneejerk reaction. I don't even know anymore. Because, as much as I've tried to escape it, thoughts of the beautiful redhead have been taking over my brain. Surely I don't feel something for her, it's some kind of transference or something. I mean, she's gorgeous and smart and kind and has soft lips...

"You so do, Naomi. I know you. You might hate me, but I know you. And I know that you can't handle this on your own."

"Handle what?" I ask, annoyed. "I'm perfectly capable to conduct the investigation; I'm an excellent officer. And the supposed issue between Emily and me is a non-issue. There is nothing there. I am attracted to her, and I do regard her as a friend. But I won't let that come between my professionalism and ability to reason."

"Naomi, I saw you two. You both kept stealing glances at the other, smiling. Your face light up every time she spoke. You've got it bad. And so does she. Emily is going to pursue something with you, I know it. And you're going to fuck up. Either you choose your job and tell her there's nothing there, thereby crushing her, or you start something that you can't finish, that will be terrible for both of you."

I bite my lip, considering her words. "It might not be terrible," I finally mumble.

"Yes, it will be," Olivia states, sounding very sure of herself, "You two have the same kind of energy, y'know? You're both intense and passionate. In another world you two could be something. But not here. It just won't work."

"Fine," I agree, suddenly eager to leave the room, leave this fucking office building and run. Run as far and fast as I can. Run from Olivia and Emily and any kind of feelings I have. "I don't even care about her. Really. I just thinks she's gorgeous." _Lie_.

"Think with your head, and not with y'know, other areas. It's your job, your career. You could fuck everything up, and for what? Some slut working at a seedy porno company?" Olivia says, scorn evident in her voice. "Don't lose your shit over some cheap whore who probably spreads her legs for anyone!"

Red clouds my vision; I'm up in a second, crossing the room, my fist connecting with Olivia's still smirking face. I punch her squarely in the nose, not hard enough to break it, but enough so that blood spurts out.

"Don't call her that! Never fucking call her that!" I smack the back of her head hard. Olivia puts her arms up, shielding her face from future attacks.

Adrenaline courses through my veins, heart palpitating. I'm ready to fucking tear her apart.

"Ow! Goddammit, Naomi! That fucking hurt," she cries, but she doesn't sound all that upset. In fact, she grins even more widely, "You've never punched me before, Naomi."

"Yeah, so what? You've deserved it plenty of times, you fucking cunt! I'll do it again if you ever disrespect Emily again, I'll fucking destroy you." I mean every word. Not just for the bitch in front of me. I will protect Emily from all attacks, no matter the repercussions.

My outburst only contributes to her gleeful smile. "Yes, I have deserved a few hits. You could have punched me when I slept with your first girlfriend. You could have punched me when I outed you to all of our friends. You should definitely have punched me when I told Kate that you had given me VD...but you didn't. You never raised a fist to me...until now. Only when I besmirched the name of poor sweet Emily did you ever get physical.

"You need to sort yourself out, Naomi, before you fall completely in love with her."

I stare at her in shock, knuckles twinging with pain, as the reality of her statement overtakes me. She's right. I've been an idiot. A stupid idiot, pushing away my feelings. And now it might be too late for me to stop Emily from overtaking me totally.

"Be a dear and hand me a tissue," Olivia demands, wiping some blood off of her lip, "Then I will tell you how to not screw yourself with this."

I silently hand her the box, slumping into the chair nearest to me. Fuck.

**So tell me what you think! Your reviews for last chapter were lovely :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for not updating! Life got in the way...I had to split up some chapters and so this one might be a bit filler**

Olivia made a show of giving me the advice I would need to handle the situation, but it was shit.

_Olivia wipes the blood off of her face, seemingly surprised at the amount of the blood soaking through the thin tissue. "Fuck me, Naomi, you have a strong right hook!"_

_I shrug, resisting the urge to feel flattered, "You have a very puncheable face."_

_She snorts at this, saying, "I've never been punched before. By anyone. I wasn't sure if you would actually..y'know, punch me. I thought maybe you'd give me a weak-ass slap or something. Seems more like you.. But it worked out okay, didn't it? You are so predictable, Naomi." She pats my knee._

_"You purposely provoked me?" I ask, finally putting together all of her comments. Honestly I had been so overwhelmed with red-hot anger at what Olivia had said about Emily that I hadn't given much thought to the post-punch grin or self-satisfied air that had settled around bitchface._

_"God, you are so dense! I have no fucking idea how you became a detective, you couldn't investigate yourself out of a paper bag!"_

_"That doesn't even make sense, Liv."_

_"Umm, it's a phrase, Naomi? Durrr." Olivia continues to smirk, her pretty features only slightly marred by the smeared blood around her mouth, and her slightly swollen nose. I notice with some satisfaction that a bruise is already forming—and Olivia hates bruises and scars and other physical imperfections. Needless to say, with my collection of scars and injuries, Olivia probably thinks I'm about as attractive as the Elephant Man._

_"You're starting to bruise," I sneer, "You're going to look fucking terrible, like you went ten rounds with a kangaroo on steroids. Nobody will want to have sex with you." She looks faintly horrified._

_"Ha ha ha," she retorts, face composed again, "Don't be a bitch. I don't have to help you."_

_"Help me? I think I'm perfectly qualified to help myself." I know this isn't true...I've fucked everything up, and though it seems unfair (it's not like I can fix anything), I clearly don't know how to function right._

_"Then why are you still sitting here?" she says, giving me a piercing look, "Trying to perv on me or something?"_

_"Gross, Olivia. We aren't all sex-obsessed whores. So what should I do?"_  
_ Olivia grins, tapping a finger on her chin. "Hmm, this is a difficult one. How about we discuss it over drinks? We can catch up."_  
_ I'm not sure what her angle is here, but I'm not buying the nice-girl act._

_"Umm, no. No. God no. I rode here with Emily, and unlike you, I go home with the same person I came with."_  
_ "That's so boring."_

_Before I can tell her to fuck off, I feel my phone buzz._

I have to go. Got to be somewhere soon. Effy will give you a ride. ~Em  
_Fuck. Fuck. I text back my response as quickly as possible. Since this is apparently my fault, (though the situation between us was almost unavoidable, I must carry the blame for some reason) I play nice._

Of course, no problem...we're okay, right? ~ Naomi  
Yeah... i guess i misinterpreted the signals ~Emily  
it's ok..sorry, i just don't wanna mix business and pleasure ~ Naomi

_"What did you write?" Olivia demands, trying to snatch my phone away and lunging at me._

_"Back, you hell-demon!"_

_A short struggle ensues. Luckily for me, I'm a police officer who takes down thugs all day while Olivia earns her living looking at people's junk (and I suppose that's all she does in her spare time as well), so I come out on top._

_I bite my lip as Olivia settles back into her chair, smoothing down her suddenly mussed-up hair. I don't intend to tell her anything, but then I blurt it out."She won't give me a ride. Said she has to do something, clearly a lie. Says she 'misinterpreted the signals'. This is fucking shit. So unfair."_

_"But what did you say?" she asks again, sounding concerned. (Another lie, I'm sure)_

_"I told her I didn't want to mix business and pleasure, which is true." The aghast look on her face is somehow surprising, even though I didn't expect her to approve of anything I do._

_"No! You idiot! You'll never sleep with her now..or do any of that other soppy shit that you like. Ugh, if you had just listened to me, I would have told you how to fake the whole thing!"_

_"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm an idiot. Don't need anyone else to tell me that today. I better go, see if I can find Effy. I wouldn't want her to leave me stranded here." ...With you, my brain completes._

_"No. Look, I can still help you. I took an oath to help people, and I'm not going to give up, even for the most desperate cases." Hmm, she's seems to be referring to something other than hippocratic oath..perhaps the hypocritical oath? "Wait just a sec, there's someone at the door. Come in!"_

_ I turn around to see Effy walking in, looking like she's been sucking on a lemon, and scowling at me._

_"You ready Naomi?" she asks, but it's not so much a question as a command. "Dunno if you got Emily's text, but I have to drive you back." She sighs, tapping her foot, as if I've been making her wait for hours._

_"That's okay," Olivia interjects, patting Effy's arm patronizingly, "I think I've got this. Naomi is coming home with me. Run along now." She tries to shoo Effy away, clearly unaware that Effy never bends to anyone's will._

_Effy's eyes narrow dangerously, darting between Olivia and me. "No. Naomi, come on. We're leaving."_

_I stand up and grab my coat. "Much as I loved our visit, Olivia, I think I must run."_

_"No," Olivia says quietly, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to her with a vise-like grip on my bicep. "We're going out for drinks."_  
_ If the situation were different, I would be laughing at Effy's reaction to Olivia. I don't think either of them are used to not getting their way, but it seems that we have reached an impasse. A meeting of two powerful forces. I can see Effy clenching her jaw, grinding her teeth as she decides what to do. There's so much tension in the room, I'm expecting them to either get into a death fight or start fucking right on the floor..knowing the two of them, my money is on the latter. But I don't want to see that, so I shake Olivia off._

_"Liv, lemme go. Look, you have my number, you can call me and we'll get together some time." Lie. "I think I should go though, I've got some um work to do."_

_"Fine."_

We never did get together, thankfully. Our friendship (in lieu of a better word) is best in short, intense bursts. I'm hoping that I can drive that time down to, well, none at all.  
The drive home with Effy was almost unbearable, a far cry from the pleasant car ride I'd shared with Emily earlier. Effy didn't say much, ignored me almost completely. Apparently I had just fucked up so much that she didn't know how to fix it...or perhaps she was just pissed at me or she was busy thinking. I was quite hungry, having not partaken in the potluck, but I didn't think it would endear me to Effy any more by asking if we could stop and get a that she would eat one, I seriously reckon that she might be a vampire.

I would like to say that the time flew by, but it didn't. I felt like a fucking hummingbird surrounded by turtles or some shit. Nobody was ignoring me or anything. No, I built up some good connections with a lot of the staff. I went out with Cook a few times, and it wasn't that terrible. He knows how to have a good time, though the endless parade of slutty women that were falling over him got to be a little much. My 'friendship' with one of the accountants and one of the tech guys led to me steal the master password for the computer system. And I checked everything, all the financial records, all of the appointments, all of the scripts. Everything. Pleasure Productions seemed clean, crystal clean. No money laundering, no huge mysterious checks, no secret warehouses...

Unfortunately the commissioner, on advice of a pimply-faced 'forensic computer analyst', decided that there was still the possibility of some sort of prostitution ring.  
That was not the torturous part of month. In fact, few of the things that irked me immediately bothered me anymore. No, I soon got used to the long hours and low payout. I learned how to pound out a full-length script or a few short-features every day or two. I was able to work with the porn stars with ease, directing them as they debased themselves in every imaginable way.

It was Emily.

She was everywhere it seemed. I had finally figured things out...I realized that I had a more than friendly interest in her, and tasted the forbidden fruit, but now she was out of my reach. I had pushed her away one too many times. And also explicitly said that I didn't want to date her, so I suppose that probably didn't help.  
Emily was nice to me still, exceedingly nice.

She didn't treat me badly or hold my actions against me. No, she was a complete saint. But there were no more secret glances, no more lingering touches, no flirting, no anything. We had become coworkers and nothing else. It was what I said I always wanted, and she is respecting my wishes. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much. She no longer cares about me, it seems, not in the way I care about her. This unrequited 'like-like' is killing me..I wouldn't call it love, not yet.

But even though Emily isn't doing anything, my feelings for her intensify with every minute I spend with. Though I feel like the farthest thing from her mind, she's all I can think of. During work I'm surrounded by her whatever I do. She's always popping her head in the office, asking us if we need anything or checking on our scripts; when we do the filming and I'm required to attend, my eyes never leave her. My body is trained to notice her, I think.

Last Tuesday, the shit really hit the fan...at least for me.

_I was called in to our main studio so I could help out with the filming and truly translate my 'incredibly artistic script'. I think Effy, who runs these sorts of things, purposely made me close to Emily. There was no reason for me to be in the room, but I went along with it because I was allowed to spend plenty of time with Emily._

_"We start filming 'Fuck Tha Police VII' now," Emily says, an adorable smile plastered over her face, "As many of you know, this is one of our huge moneymakers. So we need to do this right and I'm not going to permit mediocrity. We all want this to succeed."_

_The production crew and actors clap enthusiastically as they go to their spots. There is so much movement and people bustling about that I allow myself to watch Emily, something I've become particularly interested in as of late. My heart is beating fast and hard, and my breathing is becoming shallow. She looks so beautiful today. She looks more and more beautiful everyday, in fact._

_She's not wearing much, just a loose low-cut shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, but she's looks perfect._

_"Naomi?" Emily asks me, sounding a bit concerned. "Are you okay? Ready to go?"_

_I shake my head to remove all of the exceedingly unprofessional thoughts and fantasies that have controlled my mind this morning. "Yeah, I'm fine...thanks."_

_"Good," she says, nodding and turning away._

_I can't pull my gaze away from her, no matter how hard I try. She's positioning the two actresses on a huge bed. One, whose name might be Brandi, is dressed as a naughty nurse. My pervy, sexually-frustrated mind immediately gives birth to a fantasy where Emily is the naught nurse. Mmm, her red hair would look so sexy with the red cross over her tits. The other actress, who is named Trish, is dressed as a cop. I suppose that it's good that my body is only focused on Emily, because otherwise I would explode about the state of the cop outfit. Entirely too little fabric, no protection from the weather, terrible placement of the utility belt, and some perversion of a nightstick..On one end of the baton is a riding crop and on the other, a whip. Clearly not standard issue._

_"Okay, Trish, we're going to start right when you arrest Brandi for lewd and lascivious behavior."_

_I resist the urge to correct Trish's movements as she awkwardly takes the other girl down. It's a movie for fuck's sake, it doesn't have to be 100% accurate._

_"You're under arrest for seductive behavior, Ms. Nurse." Trish cracks the whip on her hand, straddling Brandi._

_"Mmm yeah. You can arrest me anytime you want." She lets out a loud moan that sounds a cow giving birth._

_Trish hits Brandi again, with the baton this time, and wielding it incorrectly. It doesn't even look sexy. "You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment."_

_"CUT! No, no, no!" Emily yells, furious at this egregious misuse of police equipment almost as much as I am. Or perhaps it's the acting.. "Trish, you're not making this hot. That just now? You hit her with the baton with all the intensity and sexiness of an infant. It really reminded me of someone smacking their dog with a rolled-up newspaper. This is an sadomasochistic movie, so I'm gonna need to see some actual pain and actual pleasure. Okay, we're going to do this again. _

_Don't let me down guys."_

_I shiver slightly. Authoritative Emily is very sexy._

_The next take is even worse than the first; Trish and Brandi both forget lines (they had about 20 words between the two of them) and the moaning sounded so fake, I was surprised it wasn't coming from a computer. I'm not a porno connoisseur, but I know that guys aren't going to get off watching two women stumble over terrible lines and moans that sound and look like they're straining to take a shit._

_Emily sighs and closes her eyes, arms folded and lips pursed. "This is simply unacceptable. We don't have a lot of time, and I am not settling for anything less than perfect. Look, allow me to demonstrate. If I, a mere director, can pull it off, you two certainly can. Brandi, you were amazing in 'Army Slut-hos III'. Just try to channel that. And Trish, you nailed that dominatrix role in that private film."_

Private film? I must investigate.

_"Hit me with the baton, Trish," Emily says, sliding on to the bed. Her shirt rides up a bit, exposing a toned stomach that has me drooling._

_"Um, okay," Trish says, sounding unsure. "I'll say my line right?"_

_"Yes," Emily says, voice already going a bit breathy, as she slithers out of her shirt and jeans._

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._  
_ Sensory overload._  
_ Emily is sprawled on a bed, barely clothed with a matching bra and panties. For the first time I see a tattoo on her ribcage, and her navel piercing._  
_ I don't think I'll be able to handle this. My brain is going into overdrive, body flooding with desire._

_"C'mon," Emily prods, "Hit me, Trish."_

_Trish moves to the bed and straddles Emily. I feel a lurch in my stomach as Emily gasps as their skin first meets. Jealousy. Emily is on her stomach now, and Trish's hair tickles the back of her neck as she leans in to whisper into Emily's ear. I can almost see the goosebumps forming on Emily's skin and another unpleasant surge of jealousy goes through my body._

_"You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment," Trish says, voice a lot huskier this time around. She moves off of Emily and readies her whip-baton. Using an extremely poor technique, she hits Emily weakly in the leg._

_I can't help but scoff a bit. Even I could better than that._

_Emily turns and looks at me. "You could do better?"_

_"Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I?"_

_"Yup. But go ahead, make it better."_  
_ I struggle to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. I manage to stutter out, "N-n-noo. I'm good."_

_"No," Trish retorts bitchily, "You said you could, so follow through." She shoves the baton to me and I reluctantly grab it._

_ Emily motions me closer, still posed seductively on the bed. "Run it just like we've been doing, Naomi."_  
_ I nod, not speaking because I think everything would come out as gibberish. I'm feeling an unpleasant combination of extreme arousal, anxiety, and glee. I'm going to get to feel my skin against Emily's._

_I don't remove my clothes, because I need all the fabric between us as possible. If not, I might just explode and start making out with Emily._

_My heart is pounding so, so hard as I climb onto the bed and straddle Emily. The fire in my lower belly intensifies, and I'm trying not to moan._  
_ Her skin is softer than I could have imagined, and I think I hear a small moan when I put my full wait on her._

_"You have the right to remain loud while I enforce my punishment," I say, my lips almost touching her ear. She shivers, almost imperceptibly. I press wet kisses down her neck as I raise the baton up high._

_I have to stop myself before I strike a blow with the force needed to take down a perp. I soften it up a bit, but smack Emily right on the ass._

_Then then moaning starts. She rolls over halfway, pretending to touch herself. Fuck. Fuck._ _I feel like I'm having seizure, arousal flooding my body. Her voice is so sexy when she moans, the perfect mix of huskiness and something so inherently-Emily._

_But just as quickly as it started, she sits up._

_"So do you get it guys?" she asks, slipping her clothes back on. "Hope I don't have to do that again right?"_ _ I had to sneak out. I couldn't take it._

You can imagine why it's been a struggle to keep Emily off my mind. I'm desperately hoping for this assignment to end soon. Then I will never have to see her again, and no matter how painful that sounds, it will be better than falling in love with someone who is no longer interested in me.

I've got a date tonight. With my boss. Yes, you have that right. I'm going to dinner with Gordan fucking McPherson. If there is anything illegal going on, he would know. And I think he would tell me anything if I flash some cleavage.  
**So tell me what you think! Your reviews for last chapter were amazing!** **Next chapter: humorous misadventures, naomily interaction, secrets will be revealed**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi, sorry for any wait...Stuff happens in this chapter, oh my! (not that kind of stuff :P)**

**It's actually my longest update ever**

I was slightly surprised when I found out the venue of my date with Gordon. Apparently he's taking me to a pretty fancy French restaurant; it appears that Monsieur McPherson is playing his a-game. I almost feel guilty about leading him on, but I quickly remind myself that I'm just doing my job...and that Gordon is gross pervert who tried to convince me that there was a new dress code and handed me an outfit that I can only describe as disgustingly obscene (hint: the only fabric was bright pink mesh netting).

I'm waiting for Gordon to arrive at the restaurant, sitting at the small table and feeling extremely under-dressed. I mean, I knew it was kind of a bad idea to pick the sluttiest outfit I had, but I wanted Gordon to spill his guts and tits tend to make his brain go soft.

This snooty waiter keeps glancing at me, and I can't quite tell if he is checking me out or if he's just horrified at my fashion transgression. I glare at him, giving my best 'fuck off' face.

"Naomi!"

I turn around to see Gordon walking up to the table and have to stifle a laugh. He, too, dressed to impress (I think) but failed miserably. His normally flat red hair is spiked with what looks like a whole jar of hair gel, and I'm pretty sure that he has newly-acquired frosted tips as well. His hair is only the tip of the iceberg (no pun intended) as far as appearances go. He's wearing pants that I think he's stolen from a pre-teen girl—way, way too tight for a man, too bedazzled for anyone, and in an unattractive shade of shit brown that really should only be found in a toilet. The black shirt is fine, if you ignore the plunging v-neck (aka the douche cut) and the fact that black and shit brown don't go well together. I won't go into detail about the purple, bejeweled blazer.

"You look amazing!" Gordon tells me, going in for a lingering hug. The little wanker tries to kiss me on the lips, but I'm able to move my cheek fast enough to intercept his chapped lips.

I can feel his gaze settling on my chest, and I shift uncomfortably. I'm not a fan of people blatantly eye-fucking me, at least when those people are not short women with beautiful brown eyes and perfect smiles and bright red hair.. Jesus, I'm getting carried away.

"Mmm thanks," I say with as much false enthusiasm as I can muster, "You look..um..different?"

"Yeah," he agrees, puffing out his chest, "Thought I should clean up for my _laaayday_."

I hysterically chuckle at this, praying that he is joking. I am most certainly _not _his _lady. _I settle back into my chair, taking in deep, calming breaths. I can do this. _You can do this Naomi, just get through this dinner. Then you can go home and relax. __You can mope about Emily. Get it together._

"Well you look very interesting, Gordon. I didn't know you had such an.._exotic_ fashion sense."

"I admit that I took a class on how to better appeal to attractive ladies like you. We learned how to draw women in by 'peacocking'. And clearly it's working. You have never really shown an interest in me at the office when I wear a boring old suit. Now, in my cool threads, you're all over me, baby."

"Oh definitely," I say, trying to keep the horror out of my voice. I desperately look around for a waiter. I absolutely cannot handle this shit sober. Fuck police protocol about drinking while working. Fuck it all.

A few drinks later, and I'm feeling a lot looser. Gordon is surprisingly charming, cracking genuinely funny jokes and listening attentively to everything I say. If I was interested in men and blind, then I might consider giving Gordon a try for real. I'm trying to drive the conversation back towards work right now, attempting to segue into: _ "hey, do you have any prostitutes?"_

"So, Gordon," I say with a winsome smile, "How is work going?"

"Work? Eh, pretty good. I think it could be better if this-" he gestures between us "-turns into something. I could have my girl with me at work, how amazing would that be?"

I feel another pang of guilt at his words. He seems to really like me and I'm just using him. Pervy little worm he is, but he's also kind and friendly. _I have to do this, it's my job._

"Yeah, Gordon, it would be pretty brilliant to get to work with the person you love. But secrecy would definitely be needed. Like in our case." I'm trying very hard to ignore all of the Emily-related thoughts that keep popping up. It's not working.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember what you told me, Naomi. 'We can't tell anyone about this ever, coworkers should not pursue relationships and if they feel they must, then don't let anyone know. Especially Emily'. I think that last bit is a little unnecessary, though. Emily would be happy for us."

"No!" I yelp, "Emily _cannot_ know. Most of all. She wouldn't approve of the whole thing. With work and stuff."

_ If she finds out that we went on a date, I'm dead. I'm worse than dead, I'm a lying hypocrite who hurts people. She probably won't ever speak to me._

"Why? I mean, Emily has a massive crush on someone at work."

"What?" I ask numbly. Surely she hasn't told Gordon anything.

"Oh yeah. Big time. She hasn't said anything explicitly, but all the signs are there. I know her pretty well and she is in _luuurve_. I can't figure out who it might be though. It's bugging me. Got a few ideas though. I'll figure it out soon."

I feel my heart start to pound uncomfortably in my chest. Emily still likes me—no, if Gordon is correct, she might even love me. Fuck my life. This makes it all the more difficult. I can never be around her, I know that now. I'll slip up and start kissing her or something.

"Wow. That's nice for her." I don't think I can keep the tremble out of my voice.

"Yep. Well she's actually pretty broken up about it right now. Apparently she really thought the feeling was mutual, and apparently it's not! I think she may have cried a bit. Fucking pissed me off. She's like a sister to me, y'know? What kind of shitbag leads a person on for weeks?"

Guilt. My body is consumed by guilt and pain and sadness, not to sound too emo. I've hurt Emily, I'm going to hurt Gordon. It'll be a surprise if I manage to leave anyone at Pleasure Productions unscathed.

"That is pretty awful," I mumble, feeling teary-eyed. "But maybe she had a very, very good reason for rejecting Emily's advances."

"Oh whatever," Gordon says dismissively, "I don't buy that bullshit. I think it's Effy."

"Effy?"

"Yeah. When Emily was having her little meltdown after the doctor's office visit, I heard her talking about 'stupid fucking entrancing blue eyes'. Effy has pretty entrancing blue eyes. Plus Effy's a bitch sometimes, leads people on a lot. And you're the only other person I can think of who has blue eyes at work, and you're obviously not the one. You like men—you like _me_...right?"

"Meltdown?" I'm ignoring his comments about my sexuality and my feelings towards him. There's no kind way of telling him that he has no chance with me, and I think I've reached my heart-crushing statements quota for the month anyway.

"Yeah, Emily freaked out and threw some shit then cried. It was really pathetic. She's normally so professional. Must have really upset her."

I feel like I might cry now, the true weight of my actions finally bearing down on me. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I would do anything within my power to make sure Emily never gets hurt. I'm failing miserably. It's out of my control, right? _No it isn't, you're just being a dumbass_

"I guess it's good that she has someone like you to trust then," I manage to say, my mouth dry and a lump in my throat, "Even if there is someone hurting her at the office. She really connects with all of the employees, though, so she has a lot of support."

"We all love her. Don't you?" My eyes bulge out, and Gordon takes my silence as a denial. "C'mon, I've seen the way you look at her. She's your mate, right? You're probably helping her get over the bitch."

"Yeah, she's my friend," I say hollowly, feeling like complete shit since I _am_ the complete bitch.

"She's the reason you have a job right now too, Naomi," Gordon informs me, chewing on an enormous bite of beef.

"Why?" God, did she put in a good word for me? Fight for me to stay at Pleasure Productions after my godawful first week? Fuck, all she's ever done is help me. And I've just hurt her time and time again.

"She's the reason we all have jobs, actually. I'm going to be honest here, and I'm trusting you to keep it confidential." I nod eagerly. "Pleasure Productions was having a really tough time before Emily was hired. We were hemorrhaging money every month. Emily came in and changed everything. Everything. The production quality was better, we had better talent, the writers were motivated. It was great! Plus, she came up with the best moneymaker we have, the service that distinguishes us from the rest."

"What's that?" I demand, going into cop mode. Prostitution?

He leans in closer, and whispers conspiratorially, "Private films."

"Private films? What does that mean?" I remember Emily referring to a 'private film' a few days ago..

"Well," Gordon says pompously, "It's a brilliant concept really. It's actually what I primarily work in. I am the liaison to our 'special clients'. "

He pauses to take a slurp out of his straw (he's drinking wine btw) and I'm pretty sure he's trying build tension or something. I do admit that I'm on tenterhooks, because I might finally get to find out if there is prostitution going on at PP.

"See, there are a lot of people out there with crazy-ass fetishes and weird perversions. There aren't easily accessible videos for their particular interests. The quality is poor if they can find some. And some of the fetishists and paraphiliacs are very rich and very prominent in the community, and really need to get their fix is a discreet way. That's where we come in. I meet with rich men that have strange paraphilias. They tell me what they want in their custom porno, I tell them our price, and we put it all together. Basically, we create a movie custom fit to their desires. These guys can't find what they're looking for normally..What they want is too specific. Porn studios usually produce films that will generate the most cash by appealing to the largest audience. Pleasure Productions doesn't just do that. If you want it, we'll make it. 100% of the time. That's our motto. And we ensure confidentiality. That's why it's all hush-hush even within the studio."

"Wait, so you help create whatever they want?" _Like some sick twisted kiddie shit?_

"Yep," Gordon says proudly, "We aim to please. These sick little fuckers will pay us loads of money. Last one that we did, I negotiated with the guy until we got 90% profit off of it. That means that we only used 10% of his payment for production costs. He gave us £35,000."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah, well that guy was pretty weird. Carrots. He wanted us to make a porno about horny carrots. And coprophilia..that jacked the price up some. Downright disgusting one that was."

"Wow. So will you do any kind of paraphilia?"

"Yes, we do _whatever_ the customer wants."

Holy shit. Holy shit. This is practically an admission that Pleasure Productions underaged pornography, right? I'm half exhilarated by the discovery, half horrified. It means that Emily is a criminal, a terrible person, if it turns out to be true. But it also means an end to this assignment, and if Emily turns out to be clean, then maybe..._Stop getting off track!_

"Wow. Nice set-up then."

"Yep..It works out really well for us. The johns describe their fetish, pick out the actors (if they cough up a bit more dough) and can even watch the filming."

"The johns?" I ask, "That's what they call men who frequent prostitutes, right?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am cracking the case. Go Detective Campbell!

Gordon shrugs, "Eh, it's close enough."

"So what if they wanted to be in the movie? Like instead of an actor? Replace the leading man with himself?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at, Naomi," Gordon says, frowning, "But I'm sure we could accommodate. We aim to please. Why do you ask?"

_Don't scare him off, Naomi! Be cool..._

"Oh no reason. Just curious and all." A brilliant idea strikes me. "Gordon, I have a friend-acquaintance actually-who might be interested in doing this type of thing. He is absolutely loaded, would probably pay £50,000 at least. Maybe even more!" I can barely keep the excitement out of my voice. If I can get a statement from Gordon about providing a prostitute, then I will be done with the case. Adios! The police can arrest Gordon, a bit of interrogating and everything will come out.

"Really?" Gordon asks, sounding intrigued, "I can definitely work with that! If you give me his number, I will contact him. I'm quite good at the sales pitch."

"No!" I yell, attracting some glares from other patrons. I lower my voice and lean in closer, "Gordon, I think I can do the consultation, right here. I know this man's preferences well, he was my old sexually harassing boss."

"Okay, shoot. What kind of sexual deviant is your friend," Gordon asks, grinning.

I fumble with my phone under the table, hitting record. I am going to get this on tape, gotta get the proof. "Well..my _acquaintance_ has a thing for youthful energy, if you know what I'm saying. He went on a great trip to Malaysia, and had a _fun _time. It was a _special_ vacation. He would be really, really excited if we could arrange a meeting between him and the young male actor for the 'movie'. He would prefer someone whose voice hasn't dropped, no body hair, etc. for the boy. Can we do that?"

"What?" Gordon says loudly, "I'm a bit unclear."

"Look, Gordon, I'm going to be straight with you. My 'friend' would pay a _lot _of money for a one-on-one ' private filming session' with a very young Malaysian boy, if you know what I mean. Could you arrange that?"

Gordon looks horrified. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe I've misinterpreted all of the signs!

"Naomi, are you trying to arrange some sort of hook-up for an underaged prostitute?" Gordon yells, not bothering to keep his voice down. Needless to say, people are starting to stare.

"Look, he just wants a little fun with a young boy, and to maybe film it. You don't even have to watch. What's wrong with that, right?" I try to inject my words with conviction, but I can barely keep the fear out of my voice. This is not going as planned.

Gordon stands up, pounding his fists on the table, and screams, "Naomi, I REFUSE to be a pimp! If you want a child prostitute, you'll have to go elsewhere!" The entirety of the restaurant is staring at us now.

This must be what Hell is like. No, this is Hell. I'm at the lowest point, lowest of the low. There is absolutely nothing else that could go wrong.

"Naomi? Gordon?"

FUCK.

It can, and did. I turn around to see Emily and some terrible giantess standing behind me. It appears that Emily is on a date, and that I have the worst fucking luck in the world.

Fuck. Emily is staring at me like I've morphed into an alien or something. I almost miss the lustful glance she sends my way, her eyes dragging over my tight barely-there dress. But the lust dissipates fast, and Emily scowls fiercely at me.

"It's not what it looks like," I say frantically, as all my plans go to shit. I try to block Gordon from view, but she's clearly seen him. I manage to knock my wine onto the floor.

"Well I'd fucking hope not!" Emily retorts, hands on her hips. I can't help but notice how sexy she looks in her tight black dress. Perfect amount of legs and cleavage. _Go away, inappropriate feelings of lust_

"Yeah, so nothing's happening here." I wave my hand around with false nonchalance. "So you can go away."

"Clearly something is happening," the giant girl says, putting her hand on Emily's shoulder. GRRR...I want to smack that hand away.

"No, there isn't," I snap back. "Just a friendly conversation."

"About child prostitution?" Emily asks, eyes wide. "What the fuck!"

"Umm, I have a dark sense of humor. I was um just joking kinda."

Gordon snorts, "This isn't helping me like you, Naomi. Sexual deviancy is actually a huge turn off. Do we need to call the police?"

"Shut up!" I yell, turning back to Emily, "It really is nothing."

"Nothing, right. Right. So why are you and Gordon here anyway? Just the two of you?"

God, she knows what we're doing, but just wants me to say it. She wants me to acknowledge my lies. I can tell she's struggling to keep herself together, too. It's heartbreaking.

"Um," I rack my brains for any good excuse, "We, uh.."

"I think it looks like they're on a date, Emily. Like we are." The gross girl just had say something.

"Mandy, let me handle this," Emily says, hint of annoyance in her tone.

"Yeah," I jeer, "You be quiet!"

"Stop, Naomi! Be honest with me. What are you two do doing here? On a date? Forming a prostitution ring? Both?"

"Look, Emily, Naomi and I are on a date," Gordon interjects, attempting to put his arm around me. "And Naomi, I know I wasn't supposed to tell, but I think Emily will understand that we have feelings for one another. Right, Em?"

Emily's face drops, shoulders slump, as she looks at me, sadness and betrayal in her eyes. I want to reach out to her, hug her, kiss her, and tell her the truth. But I can't. I'm paralyzed with indecision.

"Excuse me," a waiter says, stepping between us, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is a very high-end establishment, and not the appropriate forum for discussions of prostitution and pornography." He smiles fakely, ushering us away from the table.

"No!" Gordon roars, "I'm on a fucking date!"

"Yeah, me too!" 'Mandy' cries, "And we shouldn't have to leave. We're doing nothing wrong. It's just _her_ that needs to go." She points to me, and uselessly clarifies, "The blonde with the unfortunate outfit."

"Shut your face!" I yell, pushing Mandy back. "This doesn't involve you, so why don't you fuck off!"

"Does so, you bitch. I know who you are, you're 'Naomi'. You're the one who broke Emily's heart. I'm trying to put it back together, and you just have to fucking trample over it again. Who's the guy with you? Your next victim?"

The blood in my face drains. I glance over at Gordon, who looks like he's been punched. Emily looks pissed off, though I'm not sure if her angry is +directed at me or at Mandy.

"Please remove yourself from the premises," Mr. Bad-hair waiter says snottily, "Or I'm afraid I'll have to call security."

I glare at him. _I could fucking take on your security, arsehole. _

All four of us file out of the restaurant in silence. Once we're outside in the blistering cold, I try to regain control of the situation. Gordon is looking at me with hurt and anger. And instead of seeing my boss, I see the young man-boy really- who's just been stabbed in the back. I'm a terrible person.

"You fucking led us both on, didn't you, Naomi?" he spits out, "You're not fucking welcome at work anymore. Did you think that fucking your bosses would get you more money? Whoring yourself out, eh? I would fire you if I had the legal right, but I don't. I can guarantee that you won't like the atmosphere anymore, as everyone will know you're a psychotic slut."

He storms off, and I don't go after him. Everything is ruined. My whole investigation is gone. I turn to face Emily and Mandy. Emily still looks shocked, like she can't wrap her head around what's happened. Mandy is glaring at me, but I don't give a shit what she thinks. I scowl back at her.

"Mandy, can you give us a moment," Emily asks, gazing down at the sidewalk.

Mandy rolls her eyes, "C'mon, Emily. We don't need to talk to her."

"I need to talk with her," Emily firmly.

Mandy pouts and forces Emily to look her in the eyes. "Emily, be smart. We can salvage our night, go back to mine for a nightcap. _She doesn't want you_. And I do."

"I do want her," I say forcefully, "So fuck off."

Mandy scoffs, but I'm more attuned to Emily. Emily looks surprised, confused, angry, and maybe a bit hopeful. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, and it makes her look fucking adorable.

"Fine," Mandy snaps, "I'll go. But when she stomps on your heart again, Emily, you have my number." She looks at me disdainfully. "I'll expect a call in an hour."

The ugly giant leaves us then. I don't know what to say now, how to explain any of it. Emily is staring at me intently, but I can't get a read on what she's thinking.

"Emily-" I begin.

"Do you really want me?" Emily cuts me off, piercing me with her gaze.

_No, no. You have to tell her no. You cannot put your job in jeopardy any further. Just sever all ties with her. Clean break._

"Yes," I hear myself say, "I've wanted you since I first saw you."

Emily looks at me, eyes wide. I don't even think before I close the distance between us and press my lips against hers. The fire that wells up inside of me at this barest hint of a touch scares me with its intensity. Our mouths are moving together, a perfect fit. Emily moans when I push her up against the brick wall, my body flush against hers.

We finally break apart, sucking in deep breaths of cold air. I miss the warmth of her body immediately. We just look at each other silently, neither of is has the courage to speak up. I note the dilation of her pupils, the smeared lipstick, her heaving chest. Fuck. What the fuck have I done.

"Naomi, I don't fucking get it," Emily says eventually. "This hot and cold pattern"

"Neither do I," I whisper, "You have this hold on me. And it's killing me that I can't respond."

"Why are you resisting it?"

"I just...I can't. Can you please understand that?"

"Look, Naomi, I'm trying to understand. I really am. But your behavior is so erratic and honestly I'm worried." She brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, a simple yet incredibly intimate act that sends shivers down my spine.

I shrug nervously, "I'm not the best with 'relationships' or whatever."

"I'm not just talking about that," Emily says soothingly, "I mean, it sounded like you were trying to arrange a meet-up with an prostitute."

"Well it's a long story," I respond, "But completely normal. All normal."

"And you were on a date with Gordon."

"Well you were on a date with Mandy! She is so bad for you, I can tell. She brings down your sexiness. You would be a perfect 10, but your little girlfriend brings you down to a 9."

Emily sighs and rubs her eyes, "You're missing the point. You went on a date with Gordon, your boss. What happened to keeping business and pleasure separate? Or have you been seeing Gordon this whole time and didn't want to tell me? You could have told me. Why weren't you up front about it?"

I was expecting anger to come with her words, fury that I broke my rules for Gordon but not her. But it's quiet resignation instead, and it makes me feel so much worse.

"I don't know, Em. I'm having some problems right now. I'm all over the place."

"I can see that," Emily tells me. She hesitates before asking, "..Are...are you on drugs?"

"What?"

"Drugs, Naomi. You can tell me the truth, I'm no narc."

"No!" I retort, "I'm not on drugs."

"Then what Naomi? Why are you talking about insane things, and dating a boy that's way too young for you? And I thought you were gay anyway. Or was that just another lie?"

"No, I am gay. I just went on the date because..." I trail off. I have no excuses.

"Because...?" Emily's anger level is escalating rapidly. She's gone from sweet and concerned to pissed off. "Gordon is a nice guy under all of the posturing and sexual innuendo. You should not have agreed to a date with him when you knew that it meant nothing to you and something to him. That was a bitch move, Naomi. And now that we're getting everything out in the open, I think I should mention how incredibly hurt I felt when I saw you with him."

"Hey, you can't say that. You've been ignoring me these past three weeks!"

She scoffs, "I have not. I've treated you like all the other employees."

"No. There are no casual touches, no shared glances from across the room, no flirting, no offers to spend time together. Clearly you had lost interest, so I can date anyone I like!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You tell me that you don't want a relationship, that you just can't. But you want me to act like nothing's happened, when you've broken my heart. We can't go back to the way it was, that's what made me infatuated with you in the first place. I need space to get over you, Naomi. And despite what you might tell me, you're not ready for a relationship. You're not even ready for a friendship."

She turns away and the click-clack of her heels on the sidewalks pounds in my brain. Without thinking about all of the repercussions, I run after her. She doesn't seem surprised when I whirl her around and push her into the wall. Our lips connect immediately, and I can feel my tears stream down my face, intermingling with Emily's own.

"I can't stand it, I can't," I whisper in between frantic kisses.

"It's okay," Em says, "S'ok"

**Tell me what you think guys!**

**Any recommendations? Suggestions? **


	14. Chapter 14

**Kinda filler, lots of angst soon :)**

I don't know how long we stand there kissing, neither one of us wanting to end it. But eventually Emily pulls away for good, stopping my lips from meeting hers again by placing her index finger on my mouth.

The reality of the situation immediately pounds in to me as soon as the sensation of Emily's skin against mine is gone. My body aches physically as I react the the unexpected pang I feel from the negligible distance between us. I miss the feel of her lips and skin already. And something tells me that I should expect to feel like that for a long time. I lean against the dirty wall of the alley, trying to suck in enough air to catch my breathe. Emily smirks at me, assuming that my sudden breathlessness is all because of her. And it is, in a way. I'm doing all that I can not to go into panic mode and have an anxiety attack.

"Alright Naoms?" she asks, grabbing my hand and interlacing our fingers. I nod, mind still spinning from the force of the kiss and racing to put together a coherent story for Emily. It's difficult for me to think straight, no pun intended, when Emily is so close. Her red hair matches the red patches on her cheeks and nose right now, and I feel like I'm drowning in the color. She takes my silence as an affirmation, moving her body closer, so that we're almost hugging.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Emily asks, her already husky voice even huskier from the cold. Her lips are still up against mine, mere millimeters away from contact. I have to use all of my willpower not to lean in and close the tiny separation between us. She catches her lip with her teeth, deep brown eyes piercing my gaze, and my body is almost paralyzed. Her lips brush against mine for a few more seconds, an act more emotional than physical.

_Yes, yes! I'll go anywhere with you. _I feel my body freeze before I hear myself blurt, "No. No. No no no...no."

It's like the distance between us multiplies, though neither of us have moved a muscle. Emily pulls back now, grinning widely with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Oh, are you planning to stay in this nasty alley forever?" She gestures to the trashbags and the vermin scuttling about.

My own smile is genuine as I jokingly tell her, "Well actually I was. My rent is sky-high and my flat-mate Freddie is fucking annoying! This looks like a pretty nice place to crash, and attractive women seem to be drawn to it." I wink at her, trying not to let any insecurities show.

We both chuckle at my little joke, but the tension in the air is only rising.

Emily squeezes my hand, eyes lowered, as she quietly informs me, "I wasn't trying to get you to come home with me."

"Oh." I can't help the spread of ice through my body when she tells me that; I have no reason to right to feel disappointed, but I do. _I want to go home with you_.

"Well," she laughs, "I was a little bit. But not so we could shag or anything."

"That's good then," I say, somewhat reassured, "I'm a very slow kind of girl. No jumping into beds or um relationships." I want to smack myself for that one. To Emily, it must seem like I'm being a coward again and can't just give into what we both want so desperately. It also seems like I'm roughly 14 years old, too afraid to even think about any kind of intimacy.

Emily starts to frown as I trail off. "Yeah, I got that impression...it's really hard for me when you pull away and close yourself off at any chance of emotional intimacy. I'm not asking for the whole story of what's been up with you or anything, at least not right now. Or even just honesty about your feelings. I just want you tell let me be there and let me help you. You're clearly going through something."

"It's my childhood," I lie, "I was supposed to keep everything suppressed. I never learned how to coherently express my feelings."

Emily nods and gives a bitter laugh, "I understand that. I don't want to push you, not a lot. I will have to, it seems, just not all at once. But for the sake of the work environment, can you at least tell me why you went on a date with Gordon?" I slide down the wall, sitting in cold filth, head in my hands.

"Dunno."

"Naomi, tell me," Emily demands, lifting my chin up with her finger. Fuck me that's so sexy.

I shrug her off, and mumble, "Well I have some personal issues and I just wanted to forget about all my shit for a night. I thought Gordon knew that I didn't like him, that I thought we were just having a nice dinner among friends. Kinda. I kept thinking of you, though, and it went to shit. And maybe I was hoping that going on a date with someone who wasn't you might jolt me awake. I have serious feelings for you, Em, and I just really can't act on them now. I thought I might make them go away with a successful date. But that's not going to happen. The way I feel about you isn't going away."

Emily gives me a kind smile, crouching down next to me, snuggling into my body. I relish the warmth immediately.

"Naomi, you have a lot going on right now, I get that. But please don't run away from me anymore. Be brave."

"I'll try, Ems, but I think work will be a bit terrible anyway. Screwed it up with Gordon. I'm such a terrible person. A real bitch. Work is going to be torture now, everyone will hate me."

"No, you're not a bitch," Emily retorts, "And I've already texted Gordon. Just now actually. He's going on a business trip, so it will be all good. He's cool now, no one will have to know."

"And when he comes back? Will he tell the office about how evil am I?"

Emily grins devilishly at me, "I formulated a good story. I can think on my feet pretty well. I took some liberties with the truth, so I hope you don't mind."I shake my head. "Well I told him you were struggling with your sexuality, and wanted to go on one last date with a man. So you choose the most handsome, sexiest, manliest man out there—Gordon. And you realized you really were gay, coz if you didn't appreciate a fine specimen like him, then you must not like any guys at all. He ate it right up."

"Thank fuck," I murmur, the weight on my shoulders lifting slightly. "Thanks Ems, that really helps."

"Of course. I would do anything to help you, Naomi," Emily say quietly, reaching over and linking our arms.

"I know you would, Em."

We sit there for a few moments, silent, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts.

"Naomi," Emily says eventually, "Is there anything you want to tell me?" She says it hesitantly, like she's not too sure about her words.

But it's like a stab to the heart to me, because there are just so many things that I want to tell her. I just can't. "Emily, I can't say a lot right now. But I'm going through a lot of personal shit right now, and I can't have any sort of relationship or friendship with you right now. I want to, I want it so badly I can almost taste it. But right now is a terrible time."

"Naomi, I'm trying to understand, but you never give me anything to work with. You tell me you can't, and you refuse to explain even a little bit. Why can't you say a lot?" she scoffs a bit, "Is it fucking illegal or something?"

I nod frantically.

"Like a court case or something?" She sounds surprised, but buys it.

"Yeah," I agree, "Civil court, obviously. But I promise that I will tell you everything in four weeks, okay?"

"You'll tell me everything in four weeks? Why your behavior is becoming increasingly erratic, why you run away after every encounter we have, why you don't think we should be together in any way? All of that?"

"Yes," I say, with a heavy heart. "In a few weeks, you will know everything. I promise."

* * *

I am planning on telling her everything as soon as possible. Best case scenario would be...Fuck it, I don't know. I hope that I don't end up breaking both of our hearts, but that is becoming an increasingly probable outcome.

As soon as I wave goodbye to Emily and get in my car, I dial Freddie.

"Fucking wanker shitbag, you better bloody pick up!" I yell into the phone. The smarmy tosser isn't answering his work line, which should always be open.

My heart is racing. Fuck. Fuck. I've probably broken all kinds of protocol tonight. Freddie still doesn't answer, so I find the number of his roommate. JJ is a member of the police department as well, though he doesn't work in the same area as Freddie and me. He's bloody brilliant, but has some major social problems. Cool bloke.

"Hello?"

"Hey, JJ, it's me...Naomi. Is Freddie in?"

"Yes...um, no...no." I sigh, "Well which one is it?

JJ lowers his voice and whispers, "He's busy..with a girl."

I roll my eyes. Fucking Freddie gets to have sex while I'm stuck doing all the dirty work. "I'm coming over, JJ, I need to talk with him badly."

"Shit. Shit. Shit. This will be awkward."

"Get him to kick the bitch out, I'll be there in 20." I hang up the phone and turn up the volume of the radio. I cannot handle my life right now.

* * *

Freddie is understandably a bit pissed off when I arrive. His lady friend is gone, though, and he seems to be back in work mode. I've caught him up on the night's events and the general situation. I have not mentioned the extent of my infatuation with Emily. JJ, who is actually ranked higher than either of us, is listening to the conversation and making scared noises. He knows all the rules, lives for protocol. Jay would know if I've done something wrong.

"So yeah, Freds, I don't know what I'm going to do. I gave myself a month. Do you think the investigation will take any longer than that? Pleasure Productions is clean, crystal clean. There's been nothing sketchy in any of the bookkeeping or the administration. I really want to come clean to my co-workers."

"Well Naomi," Freddie says seriously, "I've got some news for you."

"Brilliant," I mumble sarcastically, "What is it now?"

"Earlier today there was a huge raid and ambush. The Navy seized four boats in the harbor, full of illegal wares. Kilos and kilos of cocaine and marijuana, thousands of pornographic DVDs, and dozens of sex workers. They were brought here from the Ukraine, and the youngest one is only twelve. Said they were forced to film the videos that were seized, then kidnapped and transported. Huge, huge operation."

"And?" I ask wearily, "that affects me how?"

"We have reason to believe that Pleasure Productions was involved."

"Don't give me that fucking 'we' bullshit, mate! What reasons? Is there actual tangible evidence, or is it just bureaucratic crap that wastes time and energy?"

Freddie rubs the back of his neck, cheeks going slightly red, "I don't really know. I don't have the clearance."

"Fucking great!" I yell, punching the couch angrily, "So I'm supposed to investigate this huge thing all by myself? What the fuck are they thinking? I can't fucking do this, they haven't even told me everything!"

"You aren't," Freddie informs me, "You're being phased out of the operation. This whole thing is way out of our jurisdiction, and you're in over your head."

"Oh. How kind of them to realize that," I say sarcastically, "Couldn't have done anything at the start of the operation, could they."

"You're going to be phased out," Freddie continues, looking at a thick packet of papers, "Over the next couple of weeks, the brass is going to send someone in. A special agent. While they get acclimated, you turn in your resignation."

"Fuck."

"Yeah," Freddie agrees, "But we did a good job until then; got some top people praising your work Naomi. Don't worry about falling by the wayside, they really appreciate what you've done so far."

I smile a bit at this, my ego getting a well-needed boost. "So after I'm phased out, what then?"

"Well," Freddie says, smiling widely, "You're going to get a week of paid leave before reporting back to work as normal. Some detective-work, some grunt work, a bit of desk duty. The usual."

"This is fucking awesome," I say, truly feeling it, "I'm so tired. But about the case...once I'm phased out completely, I can still contact people who work at Pleasure Productions, right?"

Freddie barks out a short laugh, and tells me, "Of course not, Naomi. Don't be fucking ridiculous"

"What?"

"Are you seriously surprised? I mean, these people are the subject of a very serious investigation. They have might committed terrible crimes, you shouldn't hang around them."

"I don't think they are," I retort, overwhelmingly wanting to defend my new friends, "I think they are innocent."

Freddie rolls his eyes, "Doesn't matter anyway. Why would you want to contact them?"

I blush a little bit as I think of Emily. "No reason. They are just fun people. I made friends."

"Please tell me you're fucking with me, Naomi," Freddie pleads, "That's so fucking not okay. If you don't sever contact with all of them, it will mean bad things for them and you."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. You could fuck up the investigation by giving them info , you could be charged as an accessory, you could ruin your career by fraternizing with suspects. You're not thinking straight, Campbell."

I shrug. "So who is this special agent then?"

Freddie shivers a bit, tossing a thick folder over to me. After I open the first page, I see all the information I need to know. The agent joining me? The Bellicose Butcher of Bristol. The definition of a loose cannon cop. Completely lethal, terrorizing anti-hero. I'm fucking terrified.

**So what do you guys think? Who should the Butcher be? (It will be someone from gen 1 or 2)**

**Let me know what you thought.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Been awhile, sorry!**

I am on pins and needles for the first minutes Monday morning. I've had the whole weekend to stew over things. By that, I mean that I've spent two freaking out over what to do. I would wildly oscillate between believing in happy fantasies where I finally stopped mucking Emily about and made sweet love to her, and disturbing nightmarish catastrophes where Emily ended up in prison and I got fired and had to take up a job with Olivia. I must have practiced a thousand times in the mirror telling Emily the truth, the whole trust. And equally as many other times where I told ridiculous, bald-faced lies.

"Emily, I'm a police officer. I'm with the fuzz. They think you're running a prostitution ring and exploiting your workers. They want you to go down. Your number is up according to the police commissioner. But I think you're amazing and want to do all sorts of naughty things with you."

"Emily, I'm an alien. I was sent from another planet to research you humans and your reproductive and sexual patterns. It would really beneficial to my people if you would let me jump your bones. For science, of course."

"I have to tell you something, Emily. I'm a man, penis and all."

"You know those 'private films' that we make? Well I would like to make one starring you...and me. And without a video camera. In my bed. Or yours, doesn't matter."

"I'm going to come completely clean with you, Ems. I've been acting strangely and freaking out because I am investigating Pleasure Productions and I pretty much want all of you guys to end up in solitary confinement. Except for you. You and I can share a cell, baby, because I'll be locked up for telling you this. So does that sound okay? A prison date? We can have pruno..."

"I need to be honest Emily. I'm a robot. I've infiltrated human society. You have made me human, Em. You've made me real. You've taught me what emotion is."

"I'm on the lam. I've been robbing banks all up and down the coast. Do you wanna have sex in a pile of money?"

"My name isn't really Naomi Smith, Emily. I've been living under a fake name and identity. I didn't go to school at Goldsmith's and I'm not a writer. I just have to tell you the truth. I'm...I'm Princess Anastasia."

"How do you feel about sex in the back of a police cruiser?"

"Did you know that the average person has sex with ten people by their thirtieth birthday? Maybe I could help you reach your quota."

"I think about you all fucking the time, Ems. I think about fucking you all the time, too."

"I am pregnant with Satan's spawn. Do you want to go on a date?"

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Em. I was stuck in an impossible situation. I had to be deceptive. Can you possibly understand that? I wish with every fiber of my being that we weren't in the position. I wish that we had just met at a coffee shop or a museum or a regular fucking movie. I want to be with you. It's all I think about, every hour of every day. You've ruined my sense of professionalism. Every time you come in the room and brush your hand on my shoulder, I get butterflies. When you pierce me with your gaze, I feel like we're the only two people in the world. When you say my name, I melt. I..I think I love you."

But I'm too chickenshit to go through with any of them. Especially the last one, where I bared my soul more than I ever have before. Of course, it was only to my reflection in the mirror, but I still felt sickeningly vulnerable. One more month, right? I can last that long. I think I can.

Just don't think of Emily. Or anything that reminds you of her. Fuck. That's pretty much everything in this fucking office. Keep it together, Naomi, I remind myself. Don't get distracted by thoughts about Emily or sex, and definitely not sex with Emily.

Christ, we've never even slept together and all I can think about is fucking her senseless. The kiss was damn near the most erotic thing I've ever experienced.  
I take a few deep breaths, soothing myself. I glance at the empty screen in front of me. Maybe I should email Emily. _About what, you tit? _I try and think of a reason to message her. We've not talked since we parted at the restaurant. Each time I tried to pick her number out and text her, I got too scared. What am I supposed to tell her?

The eery silence in my office reminds me of something. Where the fuck is Cook? I check the time; he should have been here ages ago. I start jotting down a quick text when my phone buzzes.

**1 new message**

It's not from a number I recognize, but the area code is local. I open it up, puzzled.

**DS Campbell, please prepare for the arrival of the federal officer.**

Oh fuck. I had forgotten about the new officer coming to take over from me.

**Received. When will that be?**

I get a reply almost immediately.

**Our operative has reached the facility.**

Shit, so she's already here? Before I can finish typing 'affirmative', I hear a knock on the door.

"Come in," I yell grumpily, hoping it's Cook. I don't turn around as I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

"Hey, Naomi," Emily says. I try valiantly not to break out in a huge smile when I hear her voice. I swivel around in my chair to see her leaning against the door frame. She's wearing a tight black skirt and a top that barely contains her assets. Yum.

"Hi, Emily," I say, with forced calmness, "How was your weekend?"

She shrugs, a small grin forming. "It was okay. I had a bit of a problem."

"Really? What happened?" I immediately start thinking of all the possibilities and how I could get rid of them. Does she need me to beat someone up? I'll solve all of your problems, Em, don't worry.

"Well I kept thinking about kissing this really gorgeous blonde and I got quite frustrated."

My mouth drops open.

"Sexually, I mean," Emily continues, smiling sweetly. "But after I took care of that, I was quite alright."

"Took care of it?" I mumble, mouth suddenly dry.

Emily winks at me, fucking winks. "I'm sure you can guess, Naoms. How was your weekend?"

"It was great," I say dumbly, mind still reeling. "I had a fantasy at night"

"A fantasy?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow, "Kinky."

"No, no," I rush to amend, "A fantastic night. No fantasies. None at all. About anything. Nope. I didn't think of anything. At all. Not about you."

"Pity."  
In my daze, I don't realize how close she's gotten. She's almost touching me, her tits at eye-level. I try not to look, but that doesn't last long. I see in my periphery that she's smiling. She uses her index finger to bring my chin up.

"Up here, babes," she says calmly, inserting her leg between mine.

"Right. Yes."

"Where's Cook?" Emily asks finally, after a few seconds. "I needed to talk with him."

"Not me?" I blurt, immediately embarrassed by the whine in my voice.

"Nope." My face falls. "I needed to flirt and tease you. Cook, I needed to help me with an interviewee."

"An interviewee?" I repeat, the word instantly sobering me up. This has to be the special operative.

"Yes. Gordon is out of town, as you know, and we usually like to have two people conduct the interview."

"I could do it."

"Yeah? Okay, meet me in the conference room in twenty." -

I use my twenty minutes to do some deep-breathing and calming down. I absolutely cannot let any more-than-friendly thoughts show during the interview. I will be fucked if she finds out that I like Emily. I'll be fucked if she even finds out that I've kissed Ems.

I've met her before. I don't think I've ever been so intimidated. I thought I was going to shit myself. Don't judge, you would be too if some insane chick was pointing a shotgun at your chest. I slide in a seat at the large conference room table. Emily walks in seconds later and sits down next to me. Her leg and mine are touching and I wonder if she can feel my shiver.

"Ready for this?"

"As ever."

Emily's eyes stay focused on the door as she slips her hand under the table to cover mine. Her thumb rubs against my skin and I feel my stomach drop.  
Then she smiles at me, that special smile that she doesn't give anyone else. I open my mouth to tell her the truth because I can't stand holding it in. I don't care what the consequences will be. I take a deep breath and look at her, meeting her gaze evenly.

"Ems, I have to tell you something."

If I wasn't attuned to her so much, I might not have noticed the hitch in her breath, the way her eyes flickered toward my lips for a millisecond, the hint of fear in her eyes.

"I..I think...I just..I lo-"

"Bonkers!"

We both jump slightly, startled by the intrusion. The weight of what I was about to do hits me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What the fuck was I thinking? I can't tell her. Shit. I can't believe I almost did that. Fuck.

Emily's face falls as she takes in the girl standing in front of us.

"Hello," she says, trying to sound composed even when her voice cracks slightly. "You must be Pandora."

"Yep! Are you Emily?" Pandora asks, pointing at me.

"No. No, I'm Naomi. Naomi Smith."

"Whizzer," she says, nodding slowly, "And so you're Emily."

"Yes," Emily says, obviously trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "I think you spoke to James Cook on the phone earlier? I am not sure where he is. I'm terribly sorry, this must seem so unprofessional."

Pandora gives me a quick smile. A psychotic smile. Jesus, she's probably murdered him or something. She's know for using excessive force and shooting first, asking questions later, if at all.

"Well we can get to down to business then."

Pandora nods and takes a seat. Her smile widens as she squeals, "I am so excited to meet you both!"

"Great," I mutter sarcastically as Emily shuffles through her papers.

Emily turns to me, "Can you hold the fort down for a second? I need to get something from my office."

I nod weakly, not looking forward to being alone in the room with Pandora.  
As soon as Emily is out of the door, Pandora leaps up, a murderous glint in her eye. I don't have time to respond before she yanks me up by my shirt and slams me against the wall.  
"What the fuck was that, DS Campbell," Pandora growls, squeezing my throat with one strong hand.  
"Fuck. I can't fucking breathe," I manage to get out. She loosens her grip fractionally.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say firmly.

"You were about to kiss the fucking perpetrator, officer."

"No," I say, my heart thudding loudly. "I wasn't doing anything."

Pandora lets me go and begins pacing around the room. It makes me nervous. "I don't know what I going to do with you, Campbell," she says, drumming her fingers on the table.  
"You're being irrational. You didn't see anything."

She scoffs, "Yes, because you normally start sentences with 'I love you'."

"I didn't say that," I point out.

"You were going to."

I don't know what to say in response to that. I just shake my head.

"You could fuck up the whole investigation, officer. Do you fucking realize that?"

"Fuck the sodding investigation!" I sob, emotions welling over."Fuck it."

She's in my face again, and I can feel her breathe against my skin. "No. The investigation continues with or without you."

"Well obviously," I say, rolling my eyes. "I can keep quiet and do my job."

"You're a threat," she tells me, "You need to be neutralized."

I don't have time to respond before I feel her fist connect with my nose. I can feel it start to bleed and I'm not sure if it's broken or not.

"Whad da fuck?" I manage, cradling my face in my hands.

"I will fucking take you down," she threatens, punching my in the gut, "If you do one thing to mess up this investigation."

I fall on the floor just as Emily walks in.

"Shit!" Emily cries, dropping her papers and rushing over. "What happened, Naoms?"

I grin through the pain, wiping away some of the blood. "Nothing."

"Well something obviously happened, Naomi!"

"She was talking to me when she leaned back too far in her chair! She toppled over and hit her nose on the table as she went down!" Pandora lies fluidly, feigning concern.

"Yeth," I say, nodding, "That's what happened."

"Damn. Maybe we should reschedule," Emily says to Pandora.

Pandora pouts childishly and is strangely able to pull it off.

"Thas okay, Emily, I'll go clean myself up while you finish up in here."

"Okay," Emily agrees tentatively, "Yell if you need any help."

With that I stand up and walk out of the room, leaving the woman I love with a fucking lunatic. I can see Pandora giving me a manic smile as she waves goodbye and cheerily yells, "Lovely meeting you!"  
**Tell me what you thought! Trying to do college life soon.**


End file.
